you will think me selfish; but I want you to promise to ride with me every day when I can be at liberty, and to leave Pauline with mother, or with Ann. When I am not at liberty, Cæsar will take the large carriage and drive you all, Miss Lenox junior among the rest. Will you promise this?"
"With great pleasure; but why not take her with us; she would be quiet?"
"Because, I want to take you to visit my poor patients. I have laid out a great work for you, Cora, and if I do not mistake, you will love it. Then it will be a good discipline for Pauline, to have you leave her occasionally. By the way, have you settled the question with her who shall be mistress?"
I looked at him in wonder. "I have noticed several times," said he pleasantly, "when your wishes and hers were at variance, that you yielded to her, instead of insisting that she should yield to you. Now, my dear Cora, as we have taken this child, we are responsible to God for her proper government and education. She is not a mere plaything which can be thrown aside at pleasure. She has a soul to be fitted for happiness or misery. Have you thought of this? Have you counted the cost, the care, and effort, and patience which all this requires?"
"Yes, Frank, and I have prayed for wisdom to guide me. I know well I am not fitted for such a charge."
"Then, dear wife, I have no more to say. I will do anything to cooperate with you; and if you enter upon it with such a spirit you will have both Divine help and reward."
I thank God, dear mother, for such a kind husband; so faithful to point out my faults, and so ready to help me overcome them. He feared I did not realize the care and responsibility of the work I had undertaken. I intend at once to commence a course of reading on education. Heretofore I have thought little upon the subject; only that children should be taught to be obedient, truthful and affectionate. Now I understand why Frank wished me to allow Ann to put Pauline to bed. The child cried every time I left her, and would only be satisfied with my waiting upon her in person. I had in two or three instances yielded to her for the sake of peace, without realizing that the principle was wrong, or that she was forming a bad habit. Frank saw she grew more and more imperative in her demands and hence thought it necessary to speak to me of the exposure.
I believe I have not given you an account of our ride to Waverley. We were about a mile on our way, when, whom should we meet but the very Mr. Benson on horse-back, and going to the cottage. I whispered to Emily that we could easily return and leave her at home while we continued our ride. But to this she would by no means consent, and turned indifferently to the window the opposite side of the carriage, where she was intently occupied with the prospect, which in that place consisted of a fine growth of forest trees.
Mr. Benson addressed some words to me, and then rode round to ascertain what was so charming in the opposite view. I really pitied the poor man, for Emily was almost rude to him. I don't yet understand them; but I think I can see that he is a little wanting in tact, and does not quite understand all the crooks and turns in a woman's heart.
Frank very politely invited Mr. Benson to accompany us, who said it would give him pleasure to do so, if agreeable to our company. He looked at Emily; but she deigned no reply, appearing wholly engaged in a frolic with Pauline.
I began at once to be very polite, determined to do my part toward making amends for Emily's indifference, which I saw pained him. It is difficult conversing from a carriage with a gentleman on horse-back; but as we rode slowly, I endeavored to be very interesting, until after a time the young clergyman, perceiving he had no attention from the object of his special regard, resumed his place at my side.
I really like Mr. Benson, and should be glad of him for a brother. I cannot help thinking sister likes him too; when he is not talking with her; for I noticed she kept Pauline very quiet and listened with interest to our conversation. When we returned home, I earnestly invited the gentleman to remain and take tea with us, and had to bite my lips to keep from laughing to see Emily's amazement at the turn affairs had taken.
The suitor, after looking very much embarrassed, as if expecting an invitation from another, accepted mine, and we entered the house. Mother stood quietly by. I suppose she is determined to leave Emily to act for herself. When he consented to remain, she said, "now you will excuse us;" but I insisted they should fulfil their engagement to tea, when, at least, one of the company became decidedly more cheerful. "I wish he wouldn't speak to Emily again this evening," was my thought, as he continually tried to engage her in conversation.
Notwithstanding all my efforts, the evening passed away slowly; the Doctor having been called out soon after tea. The occasion ended sadly for the poor suitor, who, toward the close of it, requested a few moments' conversation with Emily. In this interview, she decidedly refused him, and then cried all night after it.
Foolish girl! But I persuaded her to unburden her heart to me. She confessed, she did not know whether she loved Mr. Benson or not. Many traits in his character she admired; but others suggested serious objections. The latter, however, I could not induce her to name, and indeed, I doubt whether she had herself any distinct idea of them.
After a pause, during which I tried in vain to think of something which would comfort her, she looked at me earnestly and said, "Cora, tell me truly, don't you think he's rather soft?" "I think," I replied, trying to conceal my mirth, "that he has a very strong affection for you; and that sometimes it would be more pleasing to a delicate, modest girl, if he did not exhibit it so openly."
"That is exactly my feeling, but I couldn't express it. Yet what is the use of talking?" she asked, with a profound sigh; "the question is settled, and there the matter rests."
CHAPTER IV.
"From the light ills of infant age.
Up to the plague's destructive rage,
Pains come and go at thy command,
True to the sceptre of thy hand." East.
Thursday, June 11th.
When the Doctor left for his morning duties, he said, "Please bear in mind, Cora, that you have engaged yourself to me for the afternoon."
"For life, I understood it," said I, trying to speak gravely.
He was much pleased, and turned back to give me another embrace, and whispered, "my darling," in such a loving tone, that my heart felt very warm all the forenoon.
I wish I could describe to you the view from my window. It rained all night, and this morning was very foggy; but now the sun is beginning to dispel the mist; and the mountain—oh, it is beautiful! I keep stopping to look, and to inhale the balmy air. Now I can see the summit quite distinctly; the sun is shining upon it, while the fleecy clouds roll off and settle on the lake, from which they arise in thick mist.
Before we left our room this morning, Frank gave me a subject for thought which rather troubles me; but I think I know what you and dear father would advise; I know also what is right; but courage, courage is wanting. We are constantly liable to be interrupted while engaged in family devotions; or Frank is away at the regular time. He asked, this morning, as a great favor to himself, that I would, in such cases, call the family together and read prayers.
I started at the proposition, and was about to say, "I cannot," when he said, "do not decide hastily. Think upon the subject, and tell me to-morrow." After a pause, he continued, "the time of a physician
