are not made at the moment by the mind that sees them, so wonderfully do they change with one’s mood, and according to the store of thoughts they lay open in one’s mind. If I lived in a desert island (supposing one’s intellect could go on to grow there), I should feel sure of this.”
“But not here, where it is quite clear that the village sot (if there be one), and Mr. Hope, and the children, and we ourselves all see the same objects in sunlight and moonlight, and acknowledge them to be the same, though we cannot measure feelings upon them. I wish Mr. Hope may say something more which may lead to the old man on the heath again. He is coming to-morrow morning.”
“Yes; we shall see him again to-morrow.”
Chapter Two.
Making Acquaintance.
The sisters were not so fatigued with their journey but that they were early in the open air the next morning. In the shrubbery they met the twins, walking hand in hand, each with a doll on the disengaged arm.
“You are giving your dolls an airing before breakfast,” said Hester, stopping them as they would have passed on.
“Yes; we carry out our dolls now because we must not run before breakfast. We have made arbours in our own gardens for our dolls, where they may sit when we are swinging.”
“I should like to see your arbours and your gardens,” said Margaret, looking round her. “Will you take me to them?”
“Not now,” answered they; “we should have to cross the grass, and we must not go upon the grass before breakfast.”
“Where is your swing? I am very fond of swinging.”
“Oh! it is in the orchard there, under that large tree. But you cannot—”
“I see; we cannot get to it now, because we should have to cross the grass.” And Margaret began to look round for any place where they might go beyond the gravel-walk on which they stood. She moved towards the greenhouse, but found it was never unlocked before breakfast. The summerhouse remained, and a most unexceptionable path led to it. The sisters turned that way.
“You cannot go there,” cried the children; “Miss Young always has the schoolroom before breakfast.”
“We are going to see Miss Young,” explained Hester, smiling at the amazed faces with which the children stared from the end of the path. They were suddenly seen to turn, and walk as fast as they could, without its being called running, towards the house. They were gone to their mother’s dressing-room door, to tell her that the Miss Ibbotsons were gone to see Miss Young before breakfast.
The path led for some little way under the hedge which separated Mr. Grey’s from Mr. Rowland’s garden. There were voices on the other side, and what was said was perfectly audible. Uneasy at hearing what was not meant for them, Hester and Margaret gave tokens of their presence. The conversation on the other side of the hedge proceeded; and in a very short time the sisters were persuaded that they had been mistaken in supposing that what was said was not meant for them.
“My own Matilda,” said a voice, which evidently came from under a lady’s bonnet which moved parallel with Hester’s and Margaret’s; “My own Matilda, I would not be so harsh as to prevent your playing where you please before breakfast. Run where you like, my love. I am sorry for little girls who are not allowed to do as they please in the cool of the morning. My children shall never suffer such restriction.”
“Mother,” cried a rough little person, “I’m going fishing with Uncle Philip to-day. Sydney Grey and I are going, I don’t know how far up the river.”
“On no account, my dear boy. You must not think of such a thing. I should not have a moment’s peace while you are away. You would not be back till evening, perhaps; and I should be fancying all day that you were in the river. It is out of the question, my own George.”
“But I must go, mother. Uncle Philip said I might; and Sydney Grey is going.”
“That is only another reason, my dear boy. Your uncle will yield to my wishes, I am sure, as he always does. And if Mrs. Grey allows her son to run such risks, I am sure I should not feel myself justified. You will stay with me, love, won’t you? You will stay with your mother, my own boy.”
George ran roaring away, screaming for Uncle Philip; who was not at hand, however, to plead his cause.
“My Matilda,” resumed the fond mother, “you are making yourself a sad figure. You will not be fit to show yourself at breakfast. Do you suppose your papa ever saw such a frock as that? There! look—dripping wet! Pritchard, take Miss Matilda, and change all her clothes directly. So much for my allowing her to run on the grass while the dew is on! Lose no time, Pritchard, lest the child should catch cold. Leave Miss Anna with me. Walk beside me, my Anna. Ah! there is papa. Papa, we must find some amusement for George today, as I cannot think of letting him go out fishing. Suppose we take the children to spend the morning with their cousins at Dingleford?”
“To-morrow would suit me better, my love,” replied the husband. “Indeed I don’t see how I can go to-day, or you either.” And Mr. Rowland lowered his voice, so as to show that he was aware of his liability to be overheard.
“Oh, as to that, there is no hurry,” replied the lady, aloud. “If I had nothing else to do, I should not make that call to-day. Any day will do as well.”
As Hester and Margaret looked at each other, they heard the gentleman softly say “Hush!” But Mrs. Rowland went on as audibly as ever.
“There is no reason why I should be in any hurry to call on Mrs. Grey’s friends, whoever and whatever they may be. Any day will do for that, my dear.”
Not having been yet forbidden to run before breakfast, Hester and Margaret fled to the summer-house, to avoid hearing any more of the domestic dialogues of the Rowland family.
“What shall we do when that woman calls?” said Hester. “How will it be possible to speak to her?”
“As we should speak to any other indifferent person,” replied Margaret. “Her rudeness is meant for Mrs. Grey, not for us; for she knows nothing about us: and Mrs. Grey will never hear from us what has passed.—Shall we knock?”
In answer to the knock, they were requested to enter. Miss Young rose in some confusion when she found her visitors were other than her pupils: but she was so lame that Hester made her sit down again, while they drew seats for themselves. They apologised for breaking in upon her with so little ceremony, but explained that they were come to be inmates at Mr. Grey’s for some months, and that they wished to lose no time in making themselves acquainted with every resort of the family of which they considered themselves a part. Miss Young was evidently pleased to see them. She closed her volume, and assured them they were welcome to her apartment; “For,” said she, “everybody calls it my apartment, and why should not I?”
“Do you spend all your time here?” asked Hester.
“Almost the whole day. I have a lodging in the village; but I leave it early these fine mornings, and stay here till dark. I am so lame as to make it inconvenient to pass over the ground oftener than is necessary; and I find it pleasanter
