Part 80 (1/2)

'May they at least meet once more!' said Ethel; 'there will be some comfort in looking to that!'

'And what a fellow Tom is to have thought of it,' added Aubrey. 'n.o.body will ever dare to say again that he is not the best of the kit of us!

I must be off now to the meet: but if you are writing, Ethel, I wish you would give her my love, or whatever he would like, and tell him he is a credit to the family. I say, may I tell George Rivers?'

'Oh yes; it will soon be in the air; and Charles Cheviot will be down on us!'

Away went Aubrey to mount the hunter that George Rivers placed at his service.

Gertrude, who had been struck dumb, looked up to ask, 'Then it is really so?'

'Indeed it is.'

'Then,' cried Gertrude, vehemently, 'you and he have been deceiving us all this time!'

'No, Gertrude, there was nothing to tell. I did not really know, and I could not gossip about him.'

'You might have hinted.'

'I tried, but I was clumsy.'

'I hate hints!' exclaimed the impetuous young lady; 'one can't understand them, and gets the credit of neglecting them. If people have a secret attachment, they ought to let all their family know!'

'Perhaps they do in Ireland.'

'You don't feel one grain for me, Ethel,' said Gertrude, with tears in her eyes. 'Only think how Tom led me on to say horrid things about the Wards; and now to recollect them, when she is so ill too--and he--' She burst into sobs.

'My poor Daisy! I dare say it was half my fault.'

Gertrude gave an impatient leap. 'There you go again! calling it your fault is worse than Charles's improving the circ.u.mstance. It was my fault, and it shall be my fault, and n.o.body else's fault, except Tom's, and he will hate me, and never let me come near her to show that I am not a nasty spiteful thing!'

'I think that if you are quiet and kind, and not flighty, he will forget all that, and be glad to let you be a sister to her.'

'A sister to Ave Ward! Pretty preferment!' muttered Gertrude.

'Poor Ave! After the way she has borne her troubles, we shall feel it an honour to be sisters to her.'

'And that chair!' broke out Gertrude. 'O, Ethel, you did out of malice prepense make me vow it should be for Mrs. Thomas May.'

'Well, Daisy, if you won't suspect me of improving the circ.u.mstance, I should say that finis.h.i.+ng it for her would be capital discipline.'

'Horrid mockery, I should say,' returned Gertrude, sadly; 'a gaudy rose-coloured chair, all over white fox-gloves, for a person in that state--'

'Poor Tom's great wish is to have her drawing-room made as charming as possible; and it would be a real welcome to her.'

'Luckily,' said Gertrude, breaking into laughter again, 'they don't know when it began; how in a weak moment I admired the pattern, and Blanche inflicted it and all its appurtenances on me, hoping to convert me to a fancy-work-woman! Dear me, pride has a fall! I loved to answer ”Three st.i.tches,” when Mrs. Blanche asked after my progress.'

'Ah, Daisy, if you did but respect any one!'

'If they would not all be tiresome! Seriously, I know I must finish the thing, because of my word.'

'Yes, and I believe keeping a light word that has turned out heavy, is the best help in bridling the tongue.'