Frederica and her Guardians Part 25

Except for the suns.h.i.+ne, which is usually bright, this is not a pleasant time of the year in the city of M--. It is a time for high winds, and the streets are rough when the frost is strong, and very wet and slippery when the thaw sets in; and people who are not obliged to go out, usually keep within doors for a week or two, till the season advances, and the streets are cleared. But when, as happens in most seasons, a heavy fall of snow comes to restore for a day the reign of winter, few fail to avail themselves of the opportunity to renew the winter's chief enjoyment. Sleigh bells tinkle merrily, and the streets are full of gay equipages gliding smoothly and noiselessly to and fro.

Such a day came after a week of alternate rain and wind and sleet, and the sisters gladly found themselves speeding away from home and from the city streets. The fresh air, the suns.h.i.+ne, and the rapid motion had an exhilarating effect upon their spirits after the confinement of the last few days, and the burden of doubt and dread that had fallen on them grew lighter. The last English letter had been less discouraging than the former ones; Frederica was growing better and stronger, and they were more cheerful and lively than they had been for a long time. Neither Madame Precoe nor Miss Agnace was with them, and they amused themselves with making plans as to what they were to do when their father came home. For a long time it had been, "If papa comes home," but to-day they said cheerfully, "When papa comes home."

"Oh, how glad papa will be to see us all again!" said Frederica. "And, Lena and Tessie, I think he must have changed in some things."

"He will be glad to get home, I am sure; but as to his being changed--I don't know about that," said Tessie.

"He has suffered so much," said Frederica; "and G.o.d sends suffering to do people good. And besides, Cecilia's letters make me think so."

"And his little letters to us," said Selina.

"Oh! if he were only safe home with us again!" said Frederica. "This has been such a long winter, and I am afraid to think of the summer without papa or any one."

"Any one! We have only too many people;" and Tessie went on to say something not at all polite about Madame and Father Jerome, and they were in danger of taking up their burden again as they came back to the town.

"Where are we?" asked Selina as the street noises told her they were near home.

"We are in M--Street, near where the tall poplars are. They are building a new house, and the fence has fallen down, and there are a great many sleighs pa.s.sing along," said Frederica, as her manner was, using her eyes for her sister's benefit; and then Tessie went on,--

"And here are school-boys, hundreds of them, I should think. Listen to the noise as they pa.s.s. A shabby lot they are. The Brothers should dress their boys in uniform--they would look much nicer. One would think all the old clothes in the town had been collected for their benefit."

"Listen," said Selina suddenly, "Some one is calling Fred."

They listened, but amid the jingling of bells and the trampling of feet nothing was heard.

"It was Charlie's voice. I am quite sure it was Charlie's voice," said Selina.

"But Lena dear, it is quite impossible," said Tessie. "Charlie is far away."

"It was Charlie's voice. First he called 'Fred,' and then 'Lena, Lena.'"

The horses' heads were turned, and they drove slowly along by the line of boys. There was noise enough, laughing, talking, and exclaiming, but no voice called 'Fred' or 'Lena.' When they had pa.s.sed, they turned again, and waited as the boys moved on, and both Fred and Tessie eagerly scanned each face as it came near. There were all sorts of faces, dark and fair, handsome and ugly, bright, eager, laughing faces, and faces stupid, dull, and unhappy. But the face of Charlie was not among them.

"It was Charlie's voice," said Selina, and nothing could move her from that.

They went home full of wonder and anxiety. They told Miss Agnace about the voice that Selina had heard, but Miss Agnace said nothing. They told Madame Precoe, when she came in, and she expressed more surprise than she needed to have expressed, seeing she had already heard all about the incident from Louis the coachman, as indeed, she generally heard of the incidents, and even of the conversations, that attended their drives, when she was not with them.

By-and-by Mr Jerome came in, and he was interested too, but laughed a little at Selina's fancy.

"You were thinking of your brother, and imagined the voice," said he.

Selina said nothing.

"Or rather, you heard many voices, and the names were a fancy, or why should not your sisters have heard them also? It is nothing to look so grave about, my child."

"It was Charlie's voice," said Selina.

"And we were not thinking of our brothers, but looking and talking. And Selina hears much more readily than we do," said Tessie.

Frederica said nothing. She was not strong yet, and she was in that nervous anxious state when nothing in the way of trouble seems impossible, and she looked pale and unhappy.

"Could we not go to the school and ask if Charlie was among the boys?"

said Tessie.

"We could certainly do that," said Father Jerome, "if it would set your minds at rest. Shall we go at once?"

But Madame said the girls needed rest, and they must wait till to-morrow, or at least till afternoon, and this was acquiesced in by them all.

Of course, when they went there, they found no Charlie. They found a great many boys, who scanned them with sharp, attentive eyes, as they pa.s.sed down the long cla.s.s-room. They heard them sing and do some of their lessons, and they saw them file down to the long dining-hall to their supper of dry bread and pease coffee. Then they went through other long rooms, and through the great dormitory, where the little grey beds stood close together in long rows, and where nothing else was seen.

They went up many stairs, and looked down on numberless city roofs, and that was all.

Everybody was polite and attentive, and thanked them for coming, and asked them to come again. Then Madame Precoe and each of the girls put a piece of money in the charity box that hung on the wall near the door, and then they went away.

That was all. Of course it had been very foolish in them to expect to see their brother, Fred and Tessie said to one another as they walked down the stairs; but when they came home and saw Selina's expectant face, they looked at one another in doubt again.

Madame sat with them that evening, and exerted herself to amuse them and to withdraw their thoughts from their brother, and from Selina's foolish fancy about the voice she had heard. Miss Agnace was rarely with them when Madame was there, and when she went upstairs with them she would not linger to talk with them as she sometimes did.

"You are not to listen to them or speak about this foolish fancy, and they will forget it," said Madame to her. "In a few days it will not matter what they know. But in the meantime they might complicate matters by discussing their affairs with other people. And remember, should any one call when I am out, the young ladies are engaged. And should it be impossible to deny any one, remember you must know all that may be said."

Miss Agnace a.s.sented silently.

"And when you go as usual to Mr St. Cyr's, remember you are to say nothing of this foolish fancy of Miss Selina's. He could do nothing, even if he understood; and they will soon be out of his hands, and the sooner the better for all concerned. You understand what I wish, do you not?"

Again Miss Agnace a.s.sented in silence. She was by no means sure how all this would seem to her, when she should have time to think it over, but there was nothing to be said. She was not bound to obey blindly Madame Precoe's commands, except as they expressed the will of Father Jerome also; and in the single moment in which she permitted herself to question, a great many unhappy thoughts rushed into her mind. And they would not be put away, even when it became clear to her that for the plans with regard to the future of these children, and all that they involved, Father Jerome was responsible. Madame Precoe was but an instrument in his hands, as she herself was. Father Jerome must not be accused of doing wrong--at least, the end he had in view was right, and that ought to be enough.

Ought it to be enough? Poor Sister Agnace had never been in the habit of deciding between right and wrong for herself, and she was sadly puzzled now. It was such a pity, she thought, that it was necessary to deceive these children for their good. There would be strong resistance on their part, she began to fear, to the power that was shaping their fate.

"And they will suffer. Oh! how they will suffer?" said the poor anxious creature to herself. "But it is for their souls' sake, and their suffering will only be for this world; and surely, Mary and the saints will soften their trouble, poor darlings! Father Jerome must, of course, be right. But it hurts me to deceive them, because they love me a little, and trust me."

She went that night to pay her usual monthly visit to Mr St. Cyr. She answered his questions. She told him no lie, but she kept silence, as Madame had bidden her, about all that could have awakened the anxiety of their friend and guardian on their account. Unintentionally she made him aware that Madame Precoe was living with them; but he said nothing.

He thanked Miss Agnace for her care of the girls and their mother, and for her love and faithfulness to them, and expressed a hope that as long as they should need her, she might be permitted to remain with them.

Poor Miss Agnace! She went into a church on her way home, and knelt for a long hour or two in the cold and darkness, but she carried still her burden of doubt and care when she went away.

A few more weeks pa.s.sed away. Frederica said nothing now about going to her father, for they were not without hope that when the spring came he might return home. He longed very much to come, they knew, and they permitted themselves to hope, almost to believe, that they would see him again, and waited for his coning with what patience they could command.

Tessie went to school again after the Easter holidays, and they missed her sadly. But they both strove conscientiously, not only to be patient, but to be happy, in the great lonely house that had so changed to them. But waiting is weary work to young and eager hearts, and time pa.s.sed slowly.

The day for Tessie's first visit came, and they amused themselves making preparations for her entertainment. But hour after hour pa.s.sed, and she did not appear. Instead of Tessie, came Madame with her work-basket in her hand, and with the evident intention of remaining. It was not a pleasant prospect, and it is to be feared they were not quite able to hide their discomfort under it.

"Frederica," said Madame, "pray do not be so restless--so unsettled.

You had much better take your work, and be content to sit still." But Frederica could settle to nothing till Tessie came.

"Expect Tessie? Nay, you need not do that Tessie is not coming home."

"Excuse me, Madame, but it was certainly to-day that we agreed on for her visit, and Miss Glencairn will be sure to allow her."

"But unfortunately it is not a question of Miss Glencairn's kindness.