Thistle and Rose | Page 8

prayers, fell upon Delia's ear as she wandered slowly up the gravel path, her head full of busy thoughts.
They were not wholly pleasant thoughts, and they had to do chiefly with two people, one very well known to her, and the other quite a stranger-- Mr Goodwin, and his grandchild, Anna Forrest. Delia could hardly make up her mind whether she were pleased or annoyed at the idea of Anna's arrival. Of course she was glad, she told herself, of anything that would please the "Professor," as she always called Mr Goodwin; and she was curious and anxious to see what the new-comer would be like, for perhaps they might be companions and friends, though Anna was two years younger than herself. She could not, however, prevent a sort of suspicion that made her feel uneasy. Anna might be proud. She might even speak of the Professor in the condescending tone which so many people used in Dornton. Mrs Forrest at Waverley always looked proud, Delia thought. Perhaps Anna would be like her.
"If she is," said Delia to herself, suddenly stopping to snap off the head of a snapdragon which grew in an angle of the old red wall--"if she is--if she dares--if she doesn't see that the Professor is worth more than all the people in Dornton--I will despise her--I will--"
She stopped and shook her head.
"And if it's the other way, and she loves and honours him as she ought, and is everything to him, and, and, takes my place, what shall I do then? Why, then, I will try not to detest her."
She laughed a little as she stooped to gather some white pinks which bordered the path, and fastened them in her dress.
"Pretty she is sure to be," she continued to herself, "like her mother, whom they never mention without praise--and she is almost certain to love music. Dear old Professor, how pleased he will be! I will try not to mind, but I do hope she can't play the violin as well as I do. After all, it would be rather unfair if she had a beautiful face and a musical soul as well."
The bell stopped, and the succeeding silence was harshly broken by the shrill whistle of a train.
"There's the five o'clock train," said Delia to herself; "to-morrow by this time she will be here."
Mrs Winn and Miss Gibbins meanwhile had pursued their way home together, for they lived close to each other.
"It's a pity Delia Hunt has such blunt manners, isn't it?" said the latter regretfully, "and such very decided opinions for a young girl? It's not at all becoming. I felt quite uncomfortable just now."
"She'll know better by-and-by," said Mrs Winn. "There's a great deal of good in Delia, but she is conceited and self-willed, like all young people."
Miss Gibbins sighed. "She'll never be so amiable as her dear mother," she said.--"Why!" suddenly changing her tone to one of surprise, "isn't that Mr Oswald?"
"Yes, I think so," said Mrs Winn, gazing after the spring-cart which had passed them rapidly. "What then?"
"He had a child with him," said Miss Gibbins impressively. "A child with fair hair, like Prissy Goodwin's, and they came from the station. Something tells me it was Prissy's daughter."
"Nonsense, Julia," replied Mrs Winn; "she's not expected till to-morrow. Mrs Forrest told Mrs Hunt so herself. Besides, how should Mr Oswald have anything to do with meeting her? That was his own little girl with him, I daresay."
"Daisy Oswald has close-cropped, black hair," replied Miss Gibbins, quite unshaken in her opinion. "This child was older, and her hair shone like gold. I feel sure it was Prissy's daughter."
CHAPTER THREE.
WAVERLEY.
Meadows trim with daisies pied, Shallow brooks and rivers wide.
Milton.
While this went on at Dornton, Anna was getting nearer and nearer to her new home. At first she was pleased and excited at setting forth on a journey all by herself, and found plenty to occupy her with all she saw from the carriage windows, and with wondering which of the villages and towns she passed so rapidly were like Dornton and Waverley. It was surprising that the old lady sitting opposite to her could look so placid and calm. Perhaps, however, she was not going to a strange place amongst new people, and most likely had taken a great many journeys already in her life. Anna was glad this was not her own ease: it must be very dull, she thought, to be old, and to have got used to everything, and to have almost nothing to look forward to.
As the day wore on, and the hot afternoon sun streamed in at the windows, the old lady, who was her only companion, fell fast asleep, and Anna began to grow rather weary. She took the case with her mother's picture in it out