Mistress and Maid | Page 9

further
than wishing Selina was married, that appearing the easiest way of
getting rid of her. Latterly she had ceased this earnest aspiration; it
might be, because, learning to think more seriously of marriage, she felt
that a woman who is no blessing in her own household, is never likely
much to bless a husband's; and that, looking still farther forward, it was,
on the whole, a mercy of Providence, which made Selina not the
mother of children.

Yet her not marrying had been somewhat a surprise; for she had been
attractive in her day, handsome and agreeable in society. But perhaps,
for all that, the sharp eye of the opposite sex had discovered the cloven
foot; since, though she had received various promising attentions, poor
Selina had never had an offer. Nor, fortunately, had she ever been
known to care for any body; she was one of those women who would
have married as a matter of course, but who never would have been
guilty of the weakness of falling in love. There seemed small
probability of shipping her off, to carry into a new household the
restlessness, the fretfulness, the captious fault-finding with others, the
readiness to take offence at what was done and said to herself, which
made poor Selina Leaf the unacknowledged grief and torment of her
own.
Her two sisters sat silent. What was the use of talking? It would be only
going ever and over again the old thing; trying to ease and shift a little
the long familiar burden which they knew must be borne. Nearly every
household has, near or remote, some such burden, which Heaven only
can lift off or help to bear. And sometimes, looking round the world
outside, these two congratulated themselves, in a half sort of way, that
theirs was as light as it was; that Selina was after all, a well-meaning
well-principled woman, and, in spite of her little tempers, really fond of
her family, as she truly was, at least as fond as a nature which has its
centre in self can manage to be.
Only when Hilary looked, as to-night, into her eldest sister's pale face,
where year by year the lines were deepening, and saw how every
agitation such as the present shook her more and more--she who ought
to have a quiet life and a cheerful home, after so many hard years--then
Hilary, fierce in the resistance of her youth, felt as if what she could
have borne for herself she could not bear for Johanna, and at the
moment, sympathized with Ascott in actually "hating" Aunt Selina.
"Where is that boy? He ought to be spoken to," Johanna said, at length,
rising wearily.
"I have spoken to him; I gave him a good scolding. He is sorry, and
promises never to be so rude again."

"Oh no; not till the next time," replied Miss Leaf. hopelessly. "But
Hilary." with a sudden consternation, "what are we to do about
Elizabeth?"
The younger sister had thought of that. She had turned over in her mind
all the pros and cons, the inevitable "worries" that would result from
the presence of an additional member of the family, especially one
from whom the family skeleton could not be hid, to whom it was
already only too fatally revealed.
But Hilary was a clear headed girl, and she had the rare faculty of
seeing things as they really were, undistorted by her own likings or
dislikings--in fact, without reference to herself at all. She perceived
plainly that Johanna ought not to do the housework, that Selina would
not, and that she could not: ergo, they must keep a servant. Better,
perhaps, a small servant, over whom they could have the same
influence as over a child, than one older and more independent, who
would irritate her mistresses at home, and chatter of them abroad.
Besides, they had promised Mrs. Hand to give her daughter a fair trial.
For a month, then, Elizabeth was bound to stay; afterward, time would
show. It was best not to meet troubles half way.
This explained, in Hilary's cheerful voice, seemed greatly to reassure
and comfort her sister.
"Yes, love, you are right; she must remain her month out, unless she
does something very wrong. Do you think that really was a lie she
told?"
"About the cat? I don't quite know what to think. Let us call her, and
put the question once more. Do you put it, Johanna. I don't think she
could look at you and tell you a story."
Other people, at sight of that sweet, grave face, its bloom faded, and
hairs silvered long before their time, yet beautiful, with an almost
childlike simplicity and childlike peace--most other people would have
been of Hilary's opinion.

"Sit down; I'll call her.