Miss Marjoribanks

  _Chapter XXXIX_

  It was a very good thing for Lucilla that Mrs John was so much of aninvalid, notwithstanding that the Doctor made little of her complaints.All that Dr Marjoribanks said was--with that remnant of Scotch which wasoften perceptible in his speech--that her illnesses were a fine thing tooccupy her, and he did not know what she would do without them--a mannerof speaking which naturally lessened his daughter's anxiety, though hersympathetic care and solicitude were undiminished. And no doubt, whenshe had been once assured that there was nothing dangerous in her aunt'scase, it was a relief to Miss Marjoribanks at the present juncture thatMrs John got up late and always breakfasted in her own room. Lucillawent into that sanctuary after she had given her father his breakfast,and heard all about the palpitation and the bad night Aunt Jemima hadpassed; and then when she had consoled her suffering relative by thereflection that one never sleeps well the first night or two, MissMarjoribanks was at liberty to go forth and attend a little to her ownaffairs, which stood so much in need of being attended to. She had hadno further talk with the Doctor on the subject, but she had read over MrCavendish's address, and could not help seeing that it went dead againsther candidate; neither could Lucilla remain altogether unaffected by theexpression of feeling in respect to "a place in which I have spent somany pleasant years, and which has so many claims on my affections," andthe touching haste with which the exile had rushed back as soon as heheard of the old member's death. If it touched Miss Marjoribanks, whowas already pledged to support another interest, what might it not do tothe gentlemen in Grange Lane who were not pledged, and who had afriendship for Mr Cavendish? This was the alarming thought that haddisturbed her sleep all night, and returned to her mind with her firstawakening; and when she had really her time to herself, and the freshmorning hours before her, Lucilla began, as everybody ought to do, bygoing to the very root and foundation, and asking herself what, beyondall secondary considerations, it was _right_ to do. To change from oneside to the other and go back from her word was a thing abhorrent toher; but still Miss Marjoribanks was aware that there are certaincircumstances in which honesty and truth themselves demand what in mostcases is considered an untruthful and dishonest proceeding.

  Thus in order to come to a right decision, and with a sense of the dutyshe owed to her country which would have shamed half the electors inEngland, not to say Carlingford, Lucilla, who naturally had no vote,read the two addresses of the two candidates, and addressed herselfcandidly and impartially to the rights of the subject. Mr Cavendish wasdisposed, as we have said, to be pathetic and sentimental, and to speakof the claims the borough had upon his affections, and the eagernesswith which he had rushed home at the earliest possible moment to presenthimself to them. If poor old Mr Chiltern had been King Bomba, or agloomy Oriental tyrant, keeping all possible reformers and successorsbanished from his dominions, the new candidate could not have spokenwith more pathos. It was a sort of thing which tells among theimaginative part of the community, or so, at least, most people think;and Miss Marjoribanks was moved by it for the first moment; but then herenlightened mind asserted its rights. She said to herself that MrCavendish might have come home at any hour, by any steamboat; thatCalais and Boulogne, and even Dieppe, were as open to him as if he hadbeen an actual refugee, and that consequently there was nothingparticular to be pathetic about. And then, if the town had such claimson his affections, why had he stayed so long away? These tworationalistic questions dispersed the first _attendrissement_ which hadbegun to steal over Lucilla's mind. When she came to this conclusion,her difficulties cleared away. She had no reason to go back from herengagements and reject that intimation which had so impressed it on her,that Mr Ashburton was the man. It was a sacrifice which ancient truthand friendship did not demand, for verity was not in the document shehad just been reading, and that appeal to sentiment was nothing morethan what is generally called humbug. "He might have been living hereall the time," Lucilla said to herself; "he might have had much strongerclaims upon our affections; if he had wanted, he might have come backages ago, and not let people struggle on alone." When this view of thesubject occurred to her, Lucilla felt more indignation than sympathy.And then, as Dr Marjoribanks had done, she turned to the calm utteranceof her own candidate--the man who was the only man for Carlingford--andthat sweet sense of having given sound counsel, and of having at lastmet with some one capable of carrying it out, which makes up for so manyfailures, came like balm to Lucilla's bosom. There was nothing morenecessary; the commotion in her mind calmed down, and the tranquillityof undisturbed conviction came in its place. And it was with this senseof certainty that she put on her bonnet and issued forth, though itsnowed a little, and was a very wintry day, on Mr Ashburton's behalf, totry her fortune in Grange Lane.

  She went to Mrs Chiley's, who was now very old, poor old lady! andfeeble, and did not like to leave her sofa. Not but what she could leavethe sofa, she said to her friends, but at that time of the year, and ather time of life, it was comfortable. The sofa was wheeled to the sideof the fire, and Mrs Chiley reclined upon it, covered with knitted rugsof the brightest colours, which her young friends all worked for her.The last one arrived was what used to be called an Afghanistan blanket,done in stripes of all sorts of pretty tints, which was a present fromMrs Beverley. "Her work, she says, Lucilla," said the old lady; "but weknow what sort of soft dawdling woman she is, and it must have been theArchdeacon's nieces, you know." But still it had the place of honour atpresent, covering Mrs Chiley's feet, and affording something to talkabout when any one came in. And by her side was a little table, uponwhich stood one China rose, in a glass of water--a pale rose, almost aspale as her soft old cheeks, and chilled like them by the approachingfrost. And the fire burned with an officious cheerfulness at her elbow,as if it thought nothing of such accidental circumstances as winter andold age. To be sure this was a reflection which never came into MrsChiley's head, who was, on the contrary, very thankful for the fire, andsaid it was like a companion. "And I often think, my dear, how do thepoor people get on, especially if they are old and sick, they have nofires to keep them cheerful in this dreadful weather," the kind old ladywould say. She did say so now when Lucilla came in, glowing with coldand her rapid walk, and with a flake or two of snow slowly melting onher sealskin cloak. Perhaps it was not a sentiment the Colonel agreedwith, for he gave a humph and a little hoist of his shoulders, as if inprotest, being himself a good deal limited in his movements, and notliking to own it, by the wintry torpor within his big old frame, and thewintry weather outside.

  "Come and tell us all the news, Lucilla, my darling," Mrs Chiley said,as she drew down her young friend's glowing face to her own, and gaveher one of her lingering kisses; "I felt sure you would come and tell useverything. I said it would not be like Lucilla if she didn't. We knownothing but _the fact_, you know--not another word. Make haste and tellus everything, my dear."

  "But I don't know anything," said Miss Marjoribanks. "Of course you meanabout Mr Cavendish. I saw it in the papers, like everybody else, but Idon't know anything more."

  And then Mrs Chiley's countenance fell. She was not very strong, poorold lady, and she could have cried, as she said afterwards. "Ah, well, Isuppose there is not time," she said, after a little pause; "I supposehe has not got here from Dover yet--one always forgets the distance. Icalculated it all over last night, and I thought he would get home bythe eleven train; but these trains are never to be calculated upon, youknow, my dear. I _am_ a little disappointed, Lucilla. Poor dear! tothink how he must have rushed home the first moment--I could have criedwhen I read that address."

  "I don't see why any one should cry," said Lucilla. "I think he makes agreat deal too much of that; he might have come ever so many years agoif he had liked. Poor Mr Chiltern did not banish him, poor old man!--hemight have been here for years."

  Upon which the Colonel himself drew a little nearer, and poked the fire."I am glad to see you are so sensible, Lucilla," he said. "It's thefirst rational word I have hear
d on the subject. _She_ thinks he's akind of saint and martyr; a silly young fellow that runs off among a setof Frenchmen because he can't get everything his own way--and then heexpects that we are all to go into transports of joy, and give him ourvotes," Colonel Chiley added, smashing a great piece of coal with thepoker, with a blow full of energy, yet showing a slight unsteadiness init, which sent a host of blazing splinters into the hearth. He was a manwho wore very well, but he was not so steady as he once was, andnowadays was apt, by some tremulous movement, to neutralise the strengthwhich he had left.

  Mrs Chiley, for her part, was apt to be made very nervous by herhusband's proceedings. She was possessed by a terror that the splinterssome day would jump out of the hearth on to the carpet and fly into thecorners, "and perhaps burn us all up in our beds," as she said. She gavea little start among her cushions, and stooped down to look over thefloor. "He will never learn that he is old," she said in Lucilla's ear,who instantly came to her side to see what she wanted; and thus the twoold people kept watch upon each other, and noted, with a curious mixtureof vexation and sympathy, each other's declining strength.

  "For my part, I would give him all my votes, if I had a hundred," saidMrs Chiley, "and so will you, too, when you hear the rights of it.Lucilla, my dear, tell him--I hope _you_ are not going to forsake oldfriends."

  "No," said Miss Marjoribanks--but she spoke with a gravity andhesitation which did not fail to reach Mrs Chiley's ear--"I hope I shallnever desert my old friends; but I think all the same that it is MrAshburton who is the right man for Carlingford," she said slowly. Shesaid it with reluctance, for she knew it would shock her audience, but,at the same time, she did not shrink from her duty; and the moment hadnow arrived when Lucilla felt concealment was impossible, and that thetruth must be said.

  As for Mrs Chiley, she was so distressed that the tears came to hereyes; and even the Colonel laughed, and did not understand it. ColonelChiley, though he was by no means as yet on Mr Cavendish's side, was notany more capable than his neighbours of understanding MissMarjoribanks's single-minded devotion to what was just and right; andwhy she should transfer her support to Ashburton, who was not a ladies'man, nor, in the Colonel's opinion, a marrying man, nor anything at allattractive, now that the other had come back romantic and repentant tothrow his honours at her feet, was beyond his power of explanation. Hecontented himself with saying "humph"; but his wife was not so easilysatisfied. She took Lucilla by the hand and poured forth a flood ofremonstrances and prayers.

  "I do not understand you, Lucilla," said Mrs Chiley. "He whom we know solittle about--whom, I am sure, you have no reason to care for. And wherecould you find anybody nicer than Mr Cavendish?--and he to have suchfaith in us, and to come rushing back as soon as he was able. I am sureyou have not taken everything into consideration, Lucilla. He might notperhaps do exactly as could have been wished before he went away; but hewas young and he was led astray; and I do think you were a little hardupon him, my dear; but I have always said I never knew anybody nicerthan Mr Cavendish. And what possible reason you can have to care aboutthat other man----"

  "It was like a special Intimation," said Lucilla, with solemnity. "Idon't see how I could neglect it, for my part. The day the news cameabout poor old Mr Chiltern's death I was out, you know, and heard it;and just at one spot upon the pavement, opposite Mr Holden's, it cameinto my mind like a flash of lightning that Mr Ashburton was the man. Idon't care in the least for him, and I had not been thinking of him, oranything. It came into my head all in a moment. If I had been veryintimate with poor dear old Mr Chiltern, or if I believed inspirit-rapping, I should think it was a message from _him_."

  Lucilla spoke with great gravity, but she did not impress her audience,who were people of sceptical minds. Mrs Chiley, for her part, was almostangry, and could scarcely forgive Lucilla for having made her give graveattention to such a piece of nonsense. "If it _had_ been him," she said,with some wrath, "I don't see how having been dead for a few hoursshould make his advice worth having. It never was good for anything whenhe was alive. And you don't believe in spirit-rapping, I _hope_. Iwonder how you can talk such nonsense," the old lady said severely. AndColonel Chiley, who had been a little curious too, laughed and coughedover the joke; for the two old people were of the old school, and of avery unbelieving frame of mind.

  "I knew you would laugh," said Miss Marjoribanks, "but I cannot help it.If it had been impressed upon _your_ mind like that, you would have beendifferent. And, of course, I like Mr Cavendish much the best. I am soglad I have no vote," said Lucilla; "it does not matter to anybody whatI think; but if I had anything to do with it, you know I could not standup for Mr Cavendish, even though I am fond of him, when I felt sure thatMr Ashburton is the man for Carlingford--nobody could ask me to dothat."

  There followed a pause upon this declaration; for Miss Marjoribanks,though she had no vote, was a person of undoubted influence, and such aconviction on her part was not to be laughed at. Even Colonel Chiley,who was undecided in his own mind, was moved by it a little. "What doesthe Doctor think?" he asked. "Ashburton doesn't say a word about hisprinciples that I can see; and the other, you know----"

  "Dear Colonel Chiley," cried Lucilla, "he is not going to be PrimeMinister; and I have always heard you say, as long as I can remember,that it was not opinions, you know, but a good _man_ that people wanted.I have heard people talking politics for hours, and I always rememberyou saying that, and thinking it was the only sensible thing that wassaid; but, of course, I don't understand politics," Lucilla added, withhumility. As for the Colonel, he took up the poker, perhaps to hide alittle pleasant confusion, and again drew near the fire.

  "By George! I believe Lucilla is in the right," he said, with a certainagreeable consciousness. Perhaps he did not quite recollect at whatmoment of his life he had originated that sentiment, but he thought hecould recollect having said it; and it was with the view of carrying offthe bashfulness of genius, and not because the coals had any need of it,that he took up the poker--a proceeding which was always regarded withalarm and suspicion by his wife.

  "The fire is very nice," said Mrs Chiley. "I hate to have the fire pokedwhen it does not want it. Lucilla, if you make him go over to _that_ MrAshburton's side, you will have a great deal to answer for, and I willnever forgive you. My dear, you must be dreaming--a man that is as dryas a stick, and not one-hundredth nor one-thousandth part so nice----"

  "I shan't say another word," said Lucilla; "I shan't stay any longer,for I can't help it, and you would be angry with me. People can't helpwhat they believe, you know. There is poor little Oswald Brown, who hasdoubts, and can't go into the Church, and will ruin all his prospects,and nobody can help it----"

  "If I were his mother I should help it!" cried Mrs Chiley. "I promiseyou he should not talk of his doubts to me! A bit of a lad; and what isgood enough for all the bishops, and everybody in their senses, is notgood enough for him! If that is the kind of example you are going tofollow, Lucilla----"

  "Dear Mrs Chiley," said Miss Marjoribanks, "everybody knows what myChurch principles are; and perhaps you will come round to think with me;but I am not going to say any more about it now. I am so glad yourrheumatism is better this morning; but you must wrap up well, for it isso cold, oh, so cold, out of doors!"

  When Lucilla had thus dismissed the subject, she came to her oldfriend's side and bent over her in her sealskin cloak, to say good-bye.Mrs Chiley took her by both hands as she thus stood with her back to theold Colonel, and drew her down close, and looked searchingly into hereyes. "If you have any _particular_ reason, Lucilla, you ought to tellme--that would make such a difference," said the old lady. "I alwaystell you everything," said Miss Marjoribanks, with evasive fondness, asshe kissed the soft old withered cheek; and naturally, with the Colonelbehind, who was standing up before the fire shadowing over them both,and quite unaware of this little whispered episode, it would have beenimpossible to say more had there been ever so much to say. But it hadbeen a close encounter in its way,
and Lucilla was rather glad to getoff without any further damage. She did not feel quite successful as shewent out; but still she had left a very wholesome commotion behind her;for Colonel Chiley could not but feel that the sentiment which she hadquoted from himself was a very just sentiment. "By George! Lucilla wasin the right of it," he said again, after she was gone; and in fact wentthrough a process very similar to that which had modified the sentimentsof Dr Marjoribanks on the previous night. Mr Cavendish was a youngfellow who had rushed off among a set of Frenchmen, because LucillaMarjoribanks would not have him, or because he could not marry BarbaraLake in addition, or at least somehow because he failed of having hisown way. It was all very well for him to come back and make a commotion,and be sentimental about it. But what if, after all, Ashburton, who hadthe Firs, and lived there, and spent his money like a Christian, was theman for Carlingford? The Colonel's mind still wavered and veered about;yet it had received an impulse which was by no means unworthy ofconsideration.

  As for Mrs Chiley, she laid back her head upon her pillows and painfullyquestioned with herself whether Lucilla could have any _particular_reason for taking Mr Ashburton's part so warmly. She thought withjustice that Miss Marjoribanks was looking brighter and better, and hadmore of her old animation than she had shown for a long time--whicharose from the simple fact that she had something in hand, though theold lady thought it might have a more touching and delicate motive. If_that_ was the case, it would make a great difference. Mrs Chiley was nolonger able to go out in the evening, and had to be dependent on otherpeople's observation for a knowledge of what happened--and she waswounded by a sense that her young friend had not been appreciated as herworth deserved. If Mr Ashburton had the sense to see what was for hisown advantage, it would be a frightful thing, as Mrs Chiley said toherself, if Lucilla's friends should fly in his face. And though it wasa hard trial to give up Mr Cavendish, still if anything of the kind hadhappened----Thus it will be evident that Lucilla's visit, though it wasnot a long one, nor the least in the world an argumentative visit, wasnot without its fruit.

  She went up Grange Lane again cheerful and warm in her sealskin coat. Itwas a thing that suited her remarkably well, and corresponded with hercharacter, and everybody knows how comfortable they are. The snowflakesfell softly, one at a time, and melted away to nothing upon her sleevesand her shoulders without leaving any trace--and Lucilla, with the chillair blowing in her face, and those feathery messengers in the air, couldnot but feel that her walk and the general readiness which she felt toface all kinds of objections and difficulties, and to make a sacrificeof her own feelings, had in them a certain magnanimous and heroicelement. For after all she had no _particular_ reason, as Mrs Chileysaid. Mr Ashburton was a dry man, and of very little use in a socialpoint of view, and had never paid her any attention to speak of, nor atall put himself forth as a candidate for her favour. If he had done so,she would not have felt that thrill of utter disinterestedness whichkept her as warm within as her sealskin did without.

  There was not a soul to be seen in Grange Lane at that moment in thesnow, which came on faster and faster, but one of Mr Wentworth's (who atthat time was new in St Roque's) gray sisters, and another lady who wascoming down, as quickly as Lucilla was going up, by the long line ofgarden walls. The gentlemen were either at business or at their club, orkeeping themselves snug indoors; and it was only these devoted women whobraved the elements outside. The figure in the gray cloak was occupiedsimply with the poor people, and that is not our present business; butthe other two were otherwise inspired. Mr Cavendish, who had latelyarrived, had not been able to make up his mind to face the weather; buthis sister was of a different way of thinking. She was not of half thecapacity of Lucilla, but still she felt that something ought to be done,and that there was not a moment to be lost. When she saw it was MissMarjoribanks that was advancing to meet her, a momentary chill came overMrs Woodburn. She was thinking so much of her own errand that she couldnot but jump at the idea that nothing less important could have inducedLucilla to be out of doors on such a day; and her heart beat loud as thetwo drew near each other. Was it an unexpected and generous auxiliary,or was it a foe accomplished and formidable? For one thing, she was notcoming out of Mr Centum's, where Mrs Woodburn herself was going, whichat least was a relief. As they came nearer the two ladies instinctivelylooked to their weapons. They had met already in many a little passageof arms, but nothing like this had ever occurred to them before. If theywere to work in union, Mrs Woodburn felt that they would carry allbefore them; and if not, then it must be a struggle unto the death.

  "Is it really you, Lucilla?" she said; "I could not believe my eyes.What can have brought you out of doors on such a day? You that haveeverything your own way, and no call to exert yourself----"

  "I have been to see Mrs Chiley," said Lucilla sweetly; "when the weatheris bad she sees nobody, and she is always so pleased to have me. Herrheumatism is not so bad, thank you--though I am sure if this weathershould last----"

  "You would see Mrs Beverley's blanket," said Mrs Woodburn, who was alittle nervous, though perhaps that might only be the cold; "but we knowwhat sort of woman she is, and it must have been the Archdeacon'snieces, my dear. Do turn back with me a moment, Lucilla; or I shall gowith you. I want to speak to you. Of course you have heard of Harry'scoming home?"

  "I saw it in the papers," said Miss Marjoribanks, whose perfect serenityoffered a curious contrast to her companion's agitation. "I am sure Ishall be very glad to see him again. I hope he will come to dinner onThursday as he used to do. It will be quite nice to see him in his oldplace."

  "Yes," said Mrs Woodburn; "but that was not what I was thinking of. Youknow you used always to say he ought to be in Parliament; and he hasalways kept thinking of it since he went away--and thinking, I am sure,that it would please you," said the poor woman, faltering; for Lucillalistened with a smile that was quite unresponsive, and did not changecountenance in the least, even at this tender suggestion. "He has comehome with that object now, you know, now that poor old Mr Chiltern isdead; and I hope you are going to help us, Lucilla," said Mrs Woodburn.Her voice quite vibrated with agitation as she made this hurried,perhaps injudicious, appeal, thinking within herself at the same momentwhat would Harry say if he knew that she was thus committing him. As forLucilla, she received it all with the same tranquillity, as if sheexpected it, and was quite prepared for everything that her assailanthad to say.

  "I am sure I wish I had a vote," said Lucilla; "but I have no vote, andwhat can a girl do? I am so sorry I don't understand politics. If wewere going in for that sort of thing, I don't know what there would beleft for the gentlemen to do."

  "You have influence, which is a great deal better than a vote," said MrsWoodburn; "and they all say there is nobody like a lady forelectioneering--and a young lady above all; and then you know Harry sowell, and can always draw him out to the best advantage. I never thoughthe looked so nice, or showed his talents so much, as when he was withyou," said the eager advocate. She was only wrapped in a shawl herself,and when she looked at Lucilla's sealskin coat, and saw how rosy andcomfortable she looked, and how serene and immovable, poor Mrs Woodburnwas struck with a pang of envy. If Miss Marjoribanks had married tenyears ago, it might have been she now who would have had to standtrembling with anxiety and eagerness among the falling snow, knowingsundry reasons why Mr Cavendish should be disposed to go into Parliamentmore substantial than that of gratifying a young lady, and feeling howmuch depended on her ability to secure support for him. This, as ithappened, had fallen to his sister's share instead, and Lucilla stoodopposite to her looking at her, attentive and polite, and unresponsive.If Harry had only not been such a fool ten years ago! for Mrs Woodburnbegan to think now with Aunt Jemima, that Lucilla did not marry becauseshe was too comfortable, and, without any of the bother, could haveeverything her own way.

  "It is so cold," said Miss Marjoribanks, "and I do think it is coming onto snow very fast. I don't think it is good to stand talking. Do come into l
unch, and then we can have a long chat; for I am sure nobody elsewill venture out to-day."

  "I wish I could come," said Mrs Woodburn, "but I have to go down to MaryCentum's, and hear all about her last new housemaid, you know. I don'tknow what servants are made of for my part. They will go out in theircaps and talk to the young men, you know, in a night that is enough togive any one their death," the mimic added, with a feeble exercise ofher gift which it was sad to see. "But Harry will be sure to come tocall the first time he goes out, and you _will_ not forget what I havesaid to you, Lucilla?" and with this Mrs Woodburn took her youngfriend's hand and looked in her face with a pathetic emphasis which itwould be impossible to describe.

  "Oh, no, certainly not," said Miss Marjoribanks, with cheerfulcertainty; and then they kissed each other in the midst of the fallingsnow. Mrs Woodburn's face was cold, but Lucilla's cheek was warm andblooming as only a clear conscience and a sealskin cloak could have madeit; and then they went their several ways through the wintry solitude.Ah, if Harry had only not been such a fool ten years ago! Mrs Woodburnwas not an enthusiastic young wife, but knew very well that marriage hadits drawbacks, and had come to an age at which she could appreciate thecomfort of having her own way without any of the bother. She gave afurtive glance after Lucilla, and could not but acknowledge to herselfthat it would be very foolish of Miss Marjoribanks to marry, and forfeitall her advantages, and take somebody else's anxieties upon hershoulders, and never have any money except what she asked from herhusband. Mrs Chiley, to be sure, who was more experienced than MrsWoodburn, and might have been her grandmother, took a different view ofthe subject; but this was what the middle-aged married woman felt, whohad, as may be said, two men to carry on her shoulders, as she wentanxiously down Grange Lane to conciliate Mrs Centum, wrapping her shawlabout her, and feeling the light snow melt beneath her feet, and thecold and discomfort go to her heart. She had her husband to keep in goodhumour, and her brother to keep up and keep to the mark, and to do whatshe could to remedy in public the effects of his indolent Continentalhabits, and carry, if it was possible, the election for him--all withthe horrid sense upon her mind that if at any time the dinner should bea little less cared for than usual, or the children more noisy, Woodburnwould go on like a savage. Under such circumstances, the poor woman,amid her cares, may be excused if she looked back a little wistfully atLucilla going home all comfortable and independent and light-hearted,with no cares, nor anybody to go on at her, in her sealskin coat.

  This was how Lucilla commenced that effective but decorous advocacywhich did Mr Ashburton so much good in Carlingford. She did not pretendto understand about politics, or to care particularly about Reform orthe Income-tax; but she expressed with quiet solemnity her convictionthat it was not opinions but a good man that was wanted; that it was nota prime minister they were going to elect, and that Mr Ashburton was theman for Carlingford. "By George! Lucilla is in the right of it!" ColonelChiley said; "that was always my opinion;" and the people in Grange Lanesoon began to echo the Colonel's sentiments, which were so sound and sojust.

  As for Miss Marjoribanks, nobody had any occasion to "go on" about anyneglect on her part of her household duties. Dr Marjoribanks's dinnerswere always excellent, and it was now, as ever, a privilege to beadmitted to his table; and nothing could be more exemplary than the careLucilla took of Aunt Jemima, who had always such bad nights. Even onthis snowy afternoon she went in from her more important cares, with acomplexion freshened by the cold, and coaxed Mrs John into eatingsomething, and made her as comfortable as possible at the drawing-roomfireside.

  "Now, tell me all about Tom," Lucilla said, when she had got her workand settled herself comfortably for a quiet afternoon--for the snow hadcome on heavier than ever, and unless it might be a sister of charity,or such another sister not of charity, as Lucilla had alreadyencountered, nobody was like to stir abroad or to disturb the two ladiesin their work and their talk. Lucilla had some very interestingworsted-work in hand; and the drawing-room never looked more cosy, withsomebody to talk to inside, and the wintry world and driving snowwithout. And such an invitation as Miss Marjoribanks had just givenlifted Aunt Jemima into a paradise of content. She took Lucilla at herword, and told her, as may be supposed, _all_ about Tom, including manythings which she was quite acquainted with and knew by heart; and at thesame time there was something implied all through, but neverobtrusively set forth, which was not displeasing to the auditor. MissMarjoribanks listened with affectionate satisfaction, and asked a greatmany questions, and supplied a great many reminiscences, and enteredquite into the spirit of the conversation, and the two spent a verypleasant afternoon together,--so pleasant that Mrs John felt quiteannoyed at the reflection that it must come to an end like everythingelse that is good, and that she must get herself once more into hervelvet gown and dine with her brother-in-law. If Providence had onlygiven her the girl instead of the Doctor, who would no doubt have got onquite well without any children! but then, to be sure, if Lucilla hadbeen hers to start with, she never could have married Tom.

  For this was the extravagant hope which had already begun to blossom inhis mother's breast. To be sure a woman might marry Tom, who was toocomfortable at home to think of marrying just anybody who might make heran offer. But it was not easy to tell how Lucilla herself felt on thissubject. Her complexion was so bright with her walk, her sensations soagreeable after that warm, cheerful, pleasant afternoon, her position soentirely everything that was to be desired, and her mind so noblyconscious of being useful to her kind and country, that, even withoutany additional argument, Miss Marjoribanks had her reward, and washappy. Perhaps a touch more exquisite might still come in to round thefull proportions of content. But, to tell the truth, Lucilla was so welloff that it was not necessary to invent any romantic source of happinessto account for the light of well-being and satisfaction that shone inher eyes.