Esther | Page 5

had handed me the
key; by-and-by, Miss Majoribanks came and fetched me down, for she
said the fly was at the door, and Dr. Cameron was waiting.
We girls had never cared much for Miss Majoribanks, but nothing
could exceed her kindness then. I think the reason why
schoolmistresses are not often beloved by their pupils--though there
certainly are exceptions to that rule--is that they do not often show their
good hearts.
When Miss Majoribanks buttoned my gloves for me, and smoothed my
hair, and gave me that motherly kiss, I felt I loved her. "God bless you
my dear child! we shall all miss you; you have worked well and been a

credit to the establishment. I am sorry indeed to part with you."
Actually these were Miss Majoribanks' words, and spoken, too, in a
husky voice!
And when I got downstairs, there were all the girls, many of them with
their croquet mallets in their hands, gathered in the front garden, and
little Susie Pierrepoint, the baby of the school, carrying a large bunch
of lavender and sweet-william from her own little garden, which she
thrust into my hands.
"They are for you," cried Susie; and then they all crowded round and
kissed me.
"Good-by, Esther; we are so sorry to lose you; write to us and let us
know how you are."
Jessie's pale little face came last. "Oh, my darling! how I shall be
thinking of you!" cried the affectionate creature; and then I broke down,
and Uncle Geoffrey led me away.
"I am glad to see your school-fellows love you," he said, as we drove
off, and Redmayne House became lost to sight. "Human affection is a
great boon, Esther."
Dear Uncle Geoffrey! he wanted to comfort me; but for some time I
would not speak or listen.

CHAPTER II.
THE ARRIVAL AT COMBE MANOR.
The great secret of Uncle Geoffrey's influence with people was a
certain quiet undemonstrative sympathy. He did not talk much; he was
rather given to letting people alone, but his kindliness of look made his
few spoken words more precious than the voluble condolences of
others.

He made no effort to check the torrent of tears that followed my first
stunned feelings; indeed, his "Poor child!" so tenderly uttered, only
made them flow more quickly. It was not until we were seated in the
railway compartment, and I had dried them of my own accord, that he
attempted to rouse me by entering into conversation, and yet there was
much that he knew must be said, only "great haste, small speed," was
always Uncle Geoffrey's favorite motto. "There is time for all things,
and much more," as he used to tell us.
"Are you better now?" he asked, kindly. "That is right; put your
handkerchief away, and we can have a little talk together. You are a
sensible girl, Esther, and have a wise little head on your shoulders. Tell
me, my child, had you any idea of any special anxiety or trouble that
was preying on your father's mind?"
"No, indeed," I returned, astonished. "I knew the farm was doing badly,
and father used to complain now and then of Fred's extravagance, and
mother looked once or twice very worried, but we did not think much
about it."
"Then I am afraid what I am going to tell you will be a great shock," he
returned, gravely. "Your father and mother must have had heavy
anxieties lately, though they have kept it from you children. The cause
of your father's illness is mental trouble. I must not hide from you,
Esther, that he is ruined."
"Ruined!" I tried to repeat the word aloud, but it died on my lips.
"A man with a family ought not to speculate," went on my uncle,
speaking more to himself than me. "What did Frank know about the
business? About as much as Fred does about art. He has spent
thousands on the farm, and it has been a dead loss from the beginning.
He knew as much about farming as Carrie does. Stuff and nonsense!
And then he must needs dabble in shares for Spanish mines; and that
new-fangled Wheal Catherine affair that has gone to smash lately.
Every penny gone; and a wife, and--how many of you are there,
Esther?"

But I was too much overwhelmed to help him in his calculation, so he
commenced striking off on his fingers, one by one.
"Let me see; there's Fred, brought up, young coxcomb! to think himself
a fine gentleman and an artist, with almost as much notion of work as I
have of piano playing; and Allan, who has more brains than the rest of
you put together; and Carrie, who is half a saint and slightly hysterical;
and your poor little self; and