mentioned in any party question. Once or twice, when his speeches were recorded, how eagerly I read them, how hot I grew upon politics, blindly adopting his views; hating one paper, because it abused him, lauding another to the skies, because it pronounced him an able man. Well, such is life, woman’s life at least; her reason invariably takes its colour from her heart!
One morning, post-time brought to me untold happiness. There was a short note in Mr. Charlton’s handwriting, proffering his company at the Towers for a few days during the following week, if convenient to myself and uncle. Convenient to me? it was delightful, and I went about the house all that morning singing like a lark!—to my uncle?—I suppose so, for his lips relaxed with a rare smile, and he drew me to his heart, and kissed me again and again.
This time we made more preparations for our visitor; I had a box of handsome new dresses down from my London dressmaker, and I did my hair in a new way that was twice as becoming. I could not restrain my happiness, and surely both Uncle John and old Butterworth encouraged me in it. I met Rose Carmichael one day in the grounds, and told her who was coming, but she made me no answer; she was busy pulling to pieces the sprig of scarlet geranium which I had given her not five minutes before.
The day came, the hour, Hedworth Charlton himself—delighted to be back with us, in the highest spirits, thoroughly cordial in his greetings to me,—and I was in Paradise!
He had taken up very warm views on the subject of education since his former visit, and all through the evening he spoke of little else. He was an earnest, zealous, good man, interested in every charitable scheme, and he seemed to me to take great pains to interest me in the like. Perhaps I was not a very dull pupil when he taught!
He made endless inquiries about our parish and schools, expressed surprise and regret when I could tell him so little about them, proposed that we should walk over to the village the next morning, and I willingly acceded to his wish.
It may be that I should not have acquiesced so readily, had I foreseen that Rose Carmichael would be our escort to the schools and cottages. She knew everything, and for all the information he required, Hedworth Charlton appealed to her. She constantly taught the children—was well acquainted with the parents. I did neither—nothing, and I felt myself thrown into the shade, and walked silently behind, whilst Mr. Charlton and Rose were so eagerly discussing improvements.
I came home with a heavy heart. Hedworth Charlton had alluded to my useless life, almost with reproach, and I was burning with jealousy because he made so much of Rose Carmichael’s puny efforts. I was beside myself. I could not rest content to be thus set aside. I determined to rival her—to out-do her. I went to my poor old uncle, and startled him with a highly-coloured picture of the ill-ventilated school-room; I begged him, excitedly, to have them re-built on a more extensive scale—the parish needed it, I said, and it was the Squire’s duty.
He heard me—smiled, asked if Hedworth Charlton thought so, too; then fondly added, that his fortune was his little Amyce’s to do with as she willed, and he bade me go and consult Hedworth Charlton about the necessary arrangements.
“I was delighted, for Hedworth Charlton was gratified and warmly applauded me—delighted, I meant for a moment, when he said that he would take Rose Carmichael into our council to-morrow, I drew back mortified and displeased. Henceforward it was more Rose’s scheme than mine; she had so much more sense and judgment than I had that she improved my every suggestion. The plans were drawn out, and she and Hedworth Charlton corrected them while I looked on. Oh, me, what it is to be jealous!
Again Hedworth Charlton went away; and this time my uncle parted from him with less cordiality, and was very cross all the day after he left, and I was very miserable.
But he had wanted some rare autumnal flower for his collection of dried plants. I had promised to get it, and send it after him. Rose knew the spot where the plant grew, and she volunteered to show me where it was. We went together, secured a favourable specimen, and Hedworth Charlton wrote back cordial thanks to me, sending, at the same time, a grateful message to Miss Carmichael for the trouble she had taken in his behalf, and saying something about valuing that flower all his life, whereat my heart beat.
Uncle John read the letter, frowned over the allusion to Rose, smiled at the succeeding sentence; but I think he must have had some after-misgiving, which he mentioned to Butterworth; for she came to me that night, at bed-time, and warned me against “yon forward hussy, Rose Carmichael, who made such a palaver about her goodness, when there was none that thought much of it;—wasn’t she one of them sort that’s just bells calling other folks to church, and never gangs in theirsel?” She concluded by a trite saying that puzzled me; it was something about pretty women and pinkt gowns being allus a catching on tenter hooks.
Time wore on. Beyond reading in the papers of Mr. Hedworth Charlton’s sayings and doings we knew nothing of his further proceedings. My uncle gradually gave over talking about him, and began to sneer when I did so, and those sneers went to my heart like arrows.
The building of the new school-houses was commenced, and their progress formed my one source of interest. Not an unclouded one though, for Rose Carmichael over-ruled me even in this matter, and so successfully too, that I found I could not get on without her assistance, and having on one occasion chosen to quarrel with her about the merest trifle, I was fain to apologise the following day, because the men were at a stand-still for orders, and Rose, not I, knew all about the plans.
But I kept away from her as much as I could,—away from the village even in order to avoid her. I began to mope, to tire of novel-reading, even of my own self, and hour by hour to sit lazily at the oriel window of the boudoir, dreaming idle day-dreams or reading my favourite