The Daisy Chain, or Aspirations - Charlotte Yonge 4 стр.

Oh, mamma! But, said Margaret suddenly, you are always sure of papa.

In one way, yes, said Mrs. May; but how do I know how long Calm as she was, she could not finish that sentence. No, Margaret, depend upon it, the only security is not to think about ourselves at all, and not to fix our mind on any affection on earth. The least share of the Love above is the fullness of all blessing, and if we seek that first, all these things will be added unto us, and are, she whispered, more to herself than to Margaret.

CHAPTER III

Is this all the walking party? exclaimed Mr. Ernescliffe, as Miss Winter, Flora, and Norman gathered in the hall.

Harry wont go because of Ethels spectacles, answered Flora; and Mary and he are inseparable, so they are gone with Hector to have a shipwreck in the field.

And your other sisters?

Margaret has rattedshe is going to drive out with mamma, said Norman; as to Etheldred the Unready, Ill run up and hurry her.

In a moment he was at her door. Oh! Norman, come in. Is it time?

I should think so! Youre keeping every one waiting.

Oh, dear! go on; only just tell me the past participle of offero, and Ill catch you up.

Oblatus.

Oh, yes, how stupid. The a long or short? Then thats right. I had such a line in my head, I was forced to write it down. Is not it a capital subject this time?

The devotion of Decius? Capital. Let me see! said Norman, taking up a paper scribbled in pencil, with Latin verses. Oh, you have taken up quite a different line from mine. I began with Mount Vesuvius spouting lava like anything.

But Mount Vesuvius didnt spout till it overthrew Pompeii.

Murder! cried Norman, I forgot! Its lucky you put me in mind. I must make a fresh beginning. There go my six best lines! However, it was an uncanny place, fit for hobgoblins, and shades, and funny customers, which will do as well for my purpose. Ha! thats grand about its being so much better than the vana gloria triumphalisonly take care of the scanning there

If it was but English. Something like this:

Thats not right, but

Ethel, Norman, what are you about? cried Flora. Do you mean to go to Cocksmoor to-day?

Oh, yes! cried Ethel, flying into vehement activity; only Ive lost my blue-edged handkerchiefFlora, have you seen it?

No; but here is your red scarf.

Thank you, there is a good Flora. And oh! I finished a frock all but two stitches. Where is it gone? Go on, all of you, Ill overtake you:

Is that better, Norman?

Youll drive us out of patience, said Flora, tying the handkerchief round Ethels throat, and pulling out the fingers of her gloves, which, of course, were inside out; are you ready?

Oh, my frock! my frock! There tisthree stitchesgo on, and Ill come, said Ethel, seizing a needle, and sewing vehemently at a little pink frock. Go on, Miss Winter goes slowly up the hill, and Ill overtake you.

Come, Norman, then; it is the only way to make her come at all.

I shall wait for her, said Norman. Go on, Flora, we shall catch you up in no time; and, as Flora went, he continued, Never mind your aims and fames and trumpery English rhymes. Your verses will be much the best, Ethel; I only went on a little about Mount Vesuvius and the landscape, as Alan described it the other day, and Decius taking a last look, knowing he was to die. I made him beg his horses pardon, and say how they will both be remembered, and their self-devotion would inspire Romans to all posterity, and shout with a noble voice! said Norman, repeating some of his lines, correcting them as he proceeded.

Oh! yes; but oh, dear, Ive done! Come along, said Ethel, crumpling her work into a bundle, and snatching up her gloves; then, as they ran downstairs, and emerged into the street, It is a famous subject.

Yes, you have made a capital beginning. If you wont break down somewhere, as you always do, with some frightful false quantity, that you would get an imposition for, if you were a boy. I wish you were. I should like to see old Hoxtons face, if you were to show him up some of these verses.

Ill tell you what, Norman, if I was you, I would not make Decius flatter himself with the fame he was to getit is too like the stuff every one talks in stupid books. I want him to sayRomemy countrythe eaglesmust win, if they donever mind what becomes of me.

But why should he not like to get the credit of it, as he did? Fame and glorythey are the spirit of life, the reward of such a death.

Oh, no, no, said Ethel. Fame is coarse and vulgarblinder than ever they draw Love or Fortuneshe is only a personified newspaper, trumpeting out all that is extraordinary, without minding whether it is good or bad. She misses the delicate and lovelyI wished they would give us a theme to write about her. I should like to abuse her well.

It would make a very good theme, in a new line, said Norman; but I dont give into it, altogether. It is the hope and the thought of fame, that has made men great, from first to last. It is in every one that is not good for nothing, and always will be! The moving spirit of mans greatness!

Im not sure, said Ethel; I think looking for fame is like wanting a reward at once. I had rather people forgot themselves. Do you think Arnold von Winkelried thought about fame when he threw himself on the spears?

He got it, said Norman.

Yes; he got it for the good of other people, not to please himself. Fame does those that admire it good, not those that win it.

But! said Norman, and both were silent for some short interval, as they left the last buildings of the town, and began to mount a steep hill. Presently Norman slackened his pace, and driving his stick vehemently against a stone, exclaimed, It is no use talking, Ethel, it is all a fight and a race. One is always to try to be foremost. Thats the spirit of the thingthats what the great, from first to last, have struggled, and fought, and lived, and died for.

I know it is a battle, I know it is a race. The Bible says so, replied Ethel; but is not there the difference, that here all may winnot only one? One may do ones best, not care whether one is first or last. Thats what our reading to-day said.

That was against trumpery vanityfalse elevationnot what one has earned for oneself, but getting into other peoples places that one never deserved. That every one despises!

Of course! That they do. I say, Norman, didnt you mean Harvey Anderson?

Instead of answering, Norman exclaimed, It is pretension that is hatefultrue excelling is what ones life is for. No, no, Ill never be beat, EthelI never have been beat by any one, except by you, when you take pains, he added, looking exultingly at his sister, and I never will be.

That was against trumpery vanityfalse elevationnot what one has earned for oneself, but getting into other peoples places that one never deserved. That every one despises!

Of course! That they do. I say, Norman, didnt you mean Harvey Anderson?

Instead of answering, Norman exclaimed, It is pretension that is hatefultrue excelling is what ones life is for. No, no, Ill never be beat, EthelI never have been beat by any one, except by you, when you take pains, he added, looking exultingly at his sister, and I never will be.

Oh, Norman!

I mean, of course, while I have senses. I would not be like Richard for all the world.

Oh, no, no, poor Richard!

He is an excellent fellow in everything else, said Norman; I could sometimes wish I was more like himbut how he can be so amazingly slow, I cant imagine. That examination paper he broke down inI could have done it as easily as possible.

I did it all but one question, said Ethel, but so did he, you know, and we cant tell whether we should have it done well enough.

I know I must do something respectable when first I go to Oxford, if I dont wish to be known as the man whose brother was plucked, said Norman.

Yes, said Ethel; if papa will but let you try for the Randall scholarship next year, but he says it is not good to go to Oxford so young.

And I believe I had better not be there with Richard, added Norman. I dont like coming into contrast with him, and I dont think he can like it, poor fellow, and it isnt his fault. I had rather stay another year here, get one of the open scholarships, and leave the Stoneborough ones for those who can do no better.

In justice to Norman, we must observe that this was by no means said as a boast. He would scarcely have thus spoken to any one but Etheldred, to whom, as well as to himself, it seemed mere matter-of-fact. The others had in the meantime halted at the top of the hill, and were looking back at the townthe great old Minster, raising its twin towers and long roof, close to the river, where rich green meadows spread over the valley, and the town rising irregularly on the slope above, plentifully interspersed with trees and gardens, and one green space on the banks of the river, speckled over with a flock of little black dots in rapid motion.

Here you are! exclaimed Flora. I told them it was of no use to wait when you and Norman had begun a dissertation.

Now, Mr. Ernescliffe, I should like you to say, cried Ethel, which do you think is the best, the name of it, or the thing? Her eloquence always broke down with any auditor but her brother, or, perhaps, Margaret.

Ethel! said Norman, how is any one to understand you? The argument is this: Ethel wants people to do great deeds, and be utterly careless of the fame of them; I say, that love of glory is a mighty spring.

A mighty one! said Alan: but I think, as far as I understand the question, that Ethel has the best of it.

I dont mean that people should not serve the cause first of all, said Norman, but let them have their right place and due honour.

They had better make up their minds to do without it, said Alan. Remember

Then it is a great shame, said Norman.

But do you think it right, said Ethel, to care for distinction? It is a great thing to earn it, but I dont think one should care for the outer glory.

I believe it is a great temptation, said Alan. The being over-elated or over-depressed by success or failure in the eyes of the world, independently of the exertion we have used.

You call it a temptation? said Ethel.

Decidedly so.

But one cant live or get on without it, said Norman.

There they were cut short. There was a plantation to be crossed, with a gate that would not open, and that seemed an effectual barrier against both Miss Winter and the donkey, until by persuasive eloquence and great gallantry, Mr. Ernescliffe performed the wonderful feat of getting the former over the tall fence, while Norman conducted the donkey a long way round, undertaking to meet them at the other side of the plantation.

The talk became desultory, as they proceeded for at least a mile along a cart-track through soft-tufted grass and heath and young fir-trees. It ended in a broad open moor, stony; and full of damp boggy hollows, forlorn and desolate under the autumn sky. Here they met Norman again, and walked on along a very rough and dirty road, the ground growing more decidedly into hills and valleys as they advanced, till they found themselves before a small, but very steep hillock, one side of which was cut away into a slate quarry. Round this stood a colony of roughly-built huts, of mud, turf, or large blocks of the slate. Many workmen were engaged in splitting up the slates, or loading wagons with them, rude wild-looking men, at the sight of whom the ladies shrank up to their protectors, but who seemed too busy even to spare time for staring at them.

They were directed to John Taylors house, a low mud cottage, very wretched looking, and apparently so smoky that Mr. Ernescliffe and Norman were glad to remain outside and survey the quarry, while the ladies entered.

Inside they found more cleanliness and neatness than they had expected, but there was a sad appearance of poverty, insufficient furniture, and the cups and broken tea-pot on the table, holding nothing but toast and water, as a substitute for their proper contents. The poor woman was sitting by the fire with one twin on her lap, and the other on a chair by her side, and a larger child was in the corner by the fire, looking heavy and ill, while others of different ages lounged about listlessly. She was not untidy, but very pale, and she spoke in a meek, subdued way, as if the ills of life were so heavy on her that she had no spirit even to complain. She thanked them for their gifts but languidly, and did not visibly brighten when told that her husband was better.

Flora asked when the babes would be christened.

I cant hardly tell, Misstis so far to go.

I suppose none of the children can go to school? I dont know their faces there, said Flora, looking at a nice tall, smooth-haired girl of thirteen or fourteen.

No, Misstis so far. I am sorry they should not, for they always was used to it where we lived before, and my oldest girl she can work very nicely. I wish I could get a little place for her.

You would hardly know what to do without her, said Miss Winter.

No, maam; but she wants better food than I can give her, and it is a bad wild place for a girl to grow up. It is not like what I was used to, maam; I was always used to keep to my school and to my churchbut it is a bad place to live in here.

No one could deny it, and the party left the cottage gravely. Alan and Norman joined them, having heard a grievous history of the lawlessness of the people from a foreman with whom they had met. There seemed to be no visible means of improvement. The parish church was Stoneborough, and there the living was very poor, the tithes having been appropriated to the old Monastery, and since its dissolution having fallen into possession of a Body that never did anything for the town. The incumbent, Mr. Ramsden, had small means, and was not a high stamp of clergyman, seldom exerting himself, and leaving most of his parish work to the two under masters of the school, Mr. Wilmot and Mr. Harrison, who did all they had time and strength for, and more too, within the town itself. There was no hope for Cocksmoor!