Alice | Page 7

like
each to each as sunshine or cloud permitted--day followed day in the
calm retreat of Brook-Green,--when, one morning, Mrs. Leslie, with a
letter in her hand, sought Lady Vargrave, who was busied in tending
the flowers of a small conservatory which she had added to the cottage,
when, from various motives, and one in especial powerful and
mysterious, she exchanged for so sequestered a home the luxurious
villa bequeathed to her by her husband.
To flowers--those charming children of Nature, in which our age can

take the same tranquil pleasure as our youth--Lady Vargrave devoted
much of her monotonous and unchequered time. She seemed to love
them almost as living things; and her memory associated them with
hours as bright and as fleeting as themselves.
"My dear friend," said Mrs. Leslie, "I have news for you. My daughter,
Mrs. Merton, who has been in Cornwall on a visit to her husband's
mother, writes me word that she will visit us on her road home to the
Rectory in B-----shire. She will not put you much out of the way,"
added Mrs. Leslie, smiling, "for Mr. Merton will not accompany her;
she only brings her daughter Caroline, a lively, handsome, intelligent
girl, who will be enchanted with Evelyn. All you will regret is, that she
comes to terminate my visit, and take me away with her. If you can
forgive that offence, you will have nothing else to pardon."
Lady Vargrave replied with her usual simple kindness; but she was
evidently nervous at the visit of a stranger (for she had never yet seen
Mrs. Merton), and still more distressed at the thought of losing Mrs.
Leslie a week or two sooner than had been anticipated. However, Mrs.
Leslie hastened to reassure her. Mrs. Merton was so quiet and
good-natured, the wife of a country clergyman with simple tastes; and
after all, Mrs. Leslie's visit might last as long, if Lady Vargrave would
be contented to extend her hospitality to Mrs. Merton and Caroline.
When the visit was announced to Evelyn, her young heart was
susceptible only of pleasure and curiosity. She had no friend of her own
age; she was sure she should like the grandchild of her dear Mrs.
Leslie.
Evelyn, who had learned betimes, from the affectionate solicitude of
her nature, to relieve her mother of such few domestic cares as a home
so quiet, with an establishment so regular, could afford, gayly busied
herself in a thousand little preparations. She filled the rooms of the
visitors with flowers (not dreaming that any one could fancy them
unwholesome), and spread the tables with her own favourite books, and
had the little cottage piano in her own dressing-room removed into
Caroline's--Caroline must be fond of music. She had some doubts of
transferring a cage with two canaries into Caroline's room also; but

when she approached the cage with that intention, the birds chirped so
merrily, and seemed so glad to see her, and so expectant of sugar, that
her heart smote her for her meditated desertion and ingratitude. No, she
could not give up the canaries; but the glass bowl with the goldfish--oh,
that would look so pretty on its stand just by the casement; and the
fish--dull things!--would not miss her.
The morning, the noon, the probable hour of the important arrival came
at last; and after having three times within the last half-hour visited the
rooms, and settled and unsettled and settled again everything before
arranged, Evelyn retired to her own room to consult her wardrobe, and
Margaret,--once her nurse, now her abigail. Alas! the wardrobe of the
destined Lady Vargrave--the betrothed of a rising statesman, a new and
now an ostentatious peer; the heiress of the wealthy Templeton--was
one that many a tradesman's daughter would have disdained. Evelyn
visited so little; the clergyman of the place, and two old maids who
lived most respectably on a hundred and eighty pounds a year, in a
cottage, with one maidservant, two cats, and a footboy, bounded the
circle of her acquaintance. Her mother was so indifferent to dress; she
herself had found so many other ways of spending money!--but Evelyn
was not now more philosophical than others of her age. She turned
from muslin to muslin--from the coloured to the white, from the white
to the coloured--with pretty anxiety and sorrowful suspense. At last she
decided on the newest, and when it was on, and the single rose set in
the lustrous and beautiful hair, Carson herself could not have added a
charm. Happy age! Who wants the arts of the milliner at seventeen?
"And here, miss; here's the fine necklace Lord Vargrave brought down
when my lord came last; it will look so grand!"
The emeralds glittered in their case; Evelyn looked at them irresolutely;
then, as she