Part 35 (2/2)

”Not even if Father Jerome said you must?”

The name had not been mentioned for a long time between them. An odd look came over Miss Agnace's face.

”He will not say it,” said she.

”Did he wish you to come? I am very glad you came; but was he not afraid to let you come? Was it for our sakes?” said Frederica, wis.h.i.+ng to get away from her own troubled thoughts, and speaking very much at random.

”My dear, Father Jerome loved you, though you doubted it, and he wished you well always, though perhaps he made mistakes,” said Miss Agnace; ”but you are to rest, and not think of anything to vex you, and I will leave you for a little while.”

But though Miss Agnace went, Frederica's troubled thoughts stayed with her, and she said to herself she must find courage to write to Colonel Bentham, and ask him to interfere between her and her brother. Could she ask it? would it do? oh! how helpless and miserable she felt!

Suddenly there came into her mind Miss Agnace's question: ”Is it then anything you cannot carry to your best Friend?--to Him who has brought you through all to such happy days?”

Had she brought it to Him? Could she bring it? Not her anger, and her pride, and her determination to rebel--to have her own way; but her trouble--her fear for Selina being far away and unhappy. If Edgar did not know what would be best for her, surely Jesus did, and He would help them. But then it might not be in her way. They might have to be separated all the same. Frederica cried bitterly as she thought about it; but she did bring her trouble to her Friend, and the bitterness had all gone out of her tears, and out of her heart too, before she fell asleep. When she woke, her brother was looking down upon her with a very grave face. Frederica smiled, though her tears came again.

”I am going to be good,” said she, and she took the hand that rested on hers, and Carried it to her lips.

”My darling! my precious little sister!” said her brother, moved by her gentleness as her anger could not move him. ”It grieves me sorely to have to grieve you; but trust me, Frederica, this once.”

”Ah! must you grieve us? I do trust you: I could bear it, but Selina!

I do not think I am vain, but I cannot think what she will do without me,” she pleaded. ”No, I am not going to be naughty, and I do trust you--”

Edgar soothed her with his touch and his voice. He was very gentle with her.

”If I were sure--”

”But, darling, if you were sure, there would be no need to trust me.

And our Elder Brother--do you think He will forget Selina and you?”

”Oh, no,” said Fred, but her tears fell fast. He was very tender with her, and firm too, telling her that he depended on her to make the parting easy to her sister, saying it would only be for a little while, and in the meantime she could not be very unhappy, having many and pleasant duties, and a willing mind. And then there was Tessie, who needed her more even then Selina. And Frederica's conscience told her that Tessie had been none the better for her influence for the last two days at least.

”I will try and be good,” she said, and her brother could not but wonder at her gentleness; and as he went out he said softly to himself, ”'Except ye become as little children, ye shall in no wise enter into the kingdom of heaven.'”

In one sense Frederica's trouble was over now. Her anger was over, and her rebellion; and in trying to speak cheerfully of their separation, for Selina's sake, she did much to strengthen herself for the trial.

Selina was startled and grieved at the thought of going away from her sisters, but she was gentle and yielding, as she always had been, and never doubted that their brother was wise and right in the plans he had made for them.

So she said ”Good-bye,” cheerfully enough, and so did the others for that matter; but when she was gone, and Frederica found herself standing looking after the departing carriage, it seemed to her that the feeling of loss and loneliness was more than she could bear.

”And now we shall have our drive in the Park,” said Colonel Bentham cheerfully, as though nothing particular had happened, and Selina's going away was an event of every-day occurrence. But Frederica stood very white and still.

”I am--tired--I think. If Tessie would go without me to-day,” said she with difficulty, but she walked very quietly by Captain Clare's side till they came to the drawing-room door. ”I think I must--rest for a little while. Will you excuse me to Colonel Bentham?”

She spoke quietly; but when she looked up and met the kind eyes that were looking down on her, she gave a little cry, and ran upstairs into her room, not at all sure that she was not rebellious and angry still.

Tessie came in soon, all ready for the drive, and found her sister crying on the bed. She was quite inclined to feel aggrieved at the delay. She went at her sister's entreaty to carry her excuses to Colonel Bentham. Her guardian seemed quite to understand, and they went out without her.

True to her determination to be good, Frederica did not long indulge her tears, and within the hour she came downstairs, and walking sedately into the drawing-room, found Captain Clare waiting for her. Her elaborate cheerfulness was quite as pathetic, he thought, as her grief had been, and so were her fears that her guardian might believe her to be ungrateful for his kindness. Captain Clare laughed at her a little.

”You speak as though you were a child to be punished for being naughty by being put in a corner,” said he. ”Shall we go and walk? we may meet the carriage, and you can still have your drive.”

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