Margaret Capel Volume Ii Part 15

"You will repent your bargain, but you shall not have it back," said Aveline.

"Not at all," said he. "I have got the handsome border, and for the fineness I know nothing about it."

"It is just dinner time," said Mrs. Fitzpatrick, "I hope, my dear Aveline, you are ready for it."

"Quite hungry, mamma. Will you run and fetch Hakon Jarl, Mr. Haveloc? I hear Mark coming with his plate of bread."

Mr. Haveloc went off directly, he never hesitated an instant at any of her commands.

As soon as he was gone, she drew out the handkerchief and gazed at it with intense delight.

"Ah!" she said to herself, "I have at last got something of his--I will not again destroy it."

Mrs. Fitzpatrick looked at her with a sigh, but said nothing. "There is no need now, is there, mamma? When I thought I should never see him again, it was unwise to keep anything to put me in mind of him;" said Aveline, folding and unfolding the handkerchief, and quite engrossed by her own thoughts. "But now that we see him every day--"

"Certainly--it is quite different," said Mrs. Fitzpatrick, speaking with effort.

"You feel uncertain about my health," said Aveline, not noticing the anguish her words caused her mother, "but you know it may improve."

Mrs. Fitzpatrick, unable to control her voice, rose and hurried out of the room. This was a most unusual instance of emotion with her, and had Aveline been in health, such a circ.u.mstance would have agitated her beyond measure.

"Poor mamma," said she, looking after her mother, "I do believe she worries herself sadly about my health, and no wonder; for at times, I almost despair of myself. I am better now, however." Mr. Haveloc led the pony up to the window, and Aveline fed him with one slice of bread after another.

"Do you think he knows me, Mr. Haveloc?" she asked.

"He ought," said Mr. Haveloc, "but take care, Miss Fitzpatrick, he will include your fingers in his bill of fare some fine day."

"I am sure he would not do it on purpose," said Aveline.

"Ah! here is Mr. Lindsay. I am really glad to see you this morning; mamma is very low about me. Go and cheer her--tell her I am better."

"No--but are you?" asked Mr. Lindsay.

"What has that to do with it? I don't want you to blind me, Mr. Lindsay, but mamma. But seriously, I am no worse than when you last saw me."

"So I find; you are much the same," said Mr. Lindsay, removing his fingers from her pulse.

"And it is more important that you should give me a good word," said Aveline, "because I meditate doing something very imprudent to morrow."

"Ay--what is that?" said Mr. Lindsay.

"Going to church, doctor," replied Aveline.

"You could not do better," said the doctor drily. "It will be a glorious hot day; and the little walk up that steep hill will just put you into condition for sitting two hours on an uneasy straight bench;--go by all means."

"I thought you would be perverse, doctor," said Aveline. "I expected it.

And let me tell you, in the first place, I am not going to walk. I mean to ride Hakon Jarl. Take him back, Mr. Haveloc, I have no more bread to give him."

"And why, in the name of all that's good, cannot you stop and say your prayers at home?" asked the doctor.

"Because I don't choose it, doctor. I like to go to church."

"Ah! a good many people think there is something mysterious in the air of a church," said Mr. Lindsay. "However take your own course; there is something truly pious in a bad cold caught in a damp pew--it sends people now and then to Heaven before their time, I grant you."

"Ah, doctor, if people did not know you, they would not think you so good as you are. Now mind what you are about to mamma."

Mrs. Fitzpatrick was now quite composed, even cheerful. She shook hands with Mr. Lindsay; "begged him to take some luncheon at their early dinner," and summoned Mr. Haveloc from the garden.

"Aveline is your charge you know," said Mrs. Fitzpatrick, "I do not even venture to carve for her."

"What shall it be, Miss Fitzpatrick?" said Mr. Haveloc, drawing his chair to the table.

"Sweetbread, I think," said Aveline, looking round, "and mushrooms."

"No mushrooms;" said Mr. Lindsay.

"I will!" said Aveline.

Mr. Haveloc put them on her plate.

"What do you always shake your head for, doctor, when you look at him?"

asked Aveline, laughing; "has he so much the appearance of a bad subject?"

"I shook my head at the mushrooms," said Mr. Lindsay.

"You see, doctor, her spirits are very good," said Mrs. Fitzpatrick, in a low voice.

"I see," he replied, with a nod. But it was evident he saw no comfort in it.

Every one knows the stillness that seems to settle over town and country on the Sunday in England. Even in the most retired spot, everything is more silent and quiet than before. No sound of waggons in the neighbouring lanes; no rural noise of labourers going forth to their daily toil. And when the scenery chances to be beautiful, the day warm and fine, and this delicious quiet diffused around, only broken by the distant and uncertain sound of the church bells; there are few persons who would be tempted to exchange this refreshing pause from labour; this purifying rest to the mind, for the gaudy revelry of a continental Sabbath day.

Mrs. Fitzpatrick pointed out this stillness to Mr. Haveloc, when he met her in front of her cottage the next morning.

"It always brings to my mind those words of the Psalmist," she said, "'Be still, and know that I am G.o.d!' As if this complete and solemn repose were necessary to the mind, before contemplating the majesty of the Divine nature."

"Does Miss Fitzpatrick still hold to her intention?" he asked.

"She does; unless you can persuade her out of it."

"I feel very uneasy at the idea of her going. I saw plainly that Mr.

Lindsay did not like it."

"Good morning, Mr. Haveloc," said Aveline. She was standing at the open window, ready for church. Her white dress and splendid shawl, fastened by two large gold pins, gave something of amplitude to her figure; but her face looked more wasted in her bonnet, and the bright colour on her cheeks seemed to a.s.sort but ill with their shrunken outline. She seemed more than usually grave and quiet; not exactly in low spirits, but a kind of settled melancholy; she sat down, and gave her hand to Mr.

Haveloc; then occupied herself quietly in putting on her gloves. They were a new pair of her usual size, but now much too large. She fastened them, and looked at them for a minute without speaking.

"Are you sure you are quite equal to going, my dearest?" said Mrs.

Fitzpatrick, struck and chilled by Aveline's manner.