Mr. A. At Christmas, but only for a short time, when it struck me that she treated us with the patronage of precocious youth; and I thought she made the most of a cold when church or parish was concerned. I hinted as much; but her mother seemed quite satisfied. Poor girl! Have I been blind? I did not like her going to live at one of those boarding-houses for lady students. Do you know anything of them?
Prof. D. Of course all depends on the individual lady at the head, and the responsibility she undertakes, as well as on the tone of the inmates. With some, it would be only staying in a safe and guarded home. In others, there is a great amount of liberty, the girls going out without inquiry whether, with whom, or when they return.
Mr. A. American fashion! Well, they say young women are equal to taking care of themselves. I wonder whether my daughter understands this, or whether it is so at Cecilia's abode. Do you know?
Prof. D. I am afraid I do. The niece of a friend of mine was there, and left it, much distressed and confused by the agnostic opinions that were freely broached there. How did your grand-daughter come to choose it?
Mr. A. For the sake of being with a friend. I think Thurston is the name.
Prof. D. I know something of that family; clever people, but bred up-on principle, if it can be so called, with their minds a blank as to religion. I remember seeing one of the daughters at the party where I met Miss Moldwarp.
Mr. A. So this is the society into which we have allowed our poor child to run! I blame myself exceedingly for not having made more inquiries. Grief made me selfishly passive, or I should have opened my eyes and theirs to the danger. My poor Mary, what a shock it will be to her!
Prof. D. Was not she on the spot?
Mr. A. True; but, poor dear, she is of a gentle nature, easily led, and seeing only what her affection lets her perceive. And now, she is not strong.
Prof. D. She is not looking well.
Mr. A. You think so! I wonder whether I have been blind, and let her undertake too much.
Prof. D. Suppose you were to bring her to town for a few days. We should be delighted to have you, and she could see the doctor to whom she is accustomed. Then you can judge for yourself about her daughter.
Mr. A. Thank you, Dunlop! It will be a great comfort if it can be managed.
VIII. AUNT AND NIECE
SCENE.-In a hansom cab. Mrs. Holland and Cecilia.
Mrs. H. I wanted to speak to you, Cissy.
C. I thought so!
Mrs. H. What do you think of your mother?
C. Poor old darling. They have been worrying her till she has got hipped and nervous about herself.
Mrs. H. Do you know what spasms she has been having?
C. Oh! mother has had spasms as long as I can remember; and the more she thinks of them the worse they are. I have often heard her say so.
Mrs. H. Yes; she has gone on much too long overworking herself, and not letting your grandfather suspect anything amiss.
C. Nerves. That is what it always is.
Mrs. H. Dr. Brownlow says there is failure of heart, not dangerous or advanced at present, but that there is an overstrain of all the powers, and that unless she keeps fairly quiet, and free from hurry and worry, there may be very serious, if not fatal attacks.
C. I never did think much of Dr. Brownlow. He told me my palpitations were nothing but indigestion, and I am sure they were not!
Mrs. H. Well, Cissy, something must be done to relieve your mother of some of her burthens.
C. I see what you are driving at, Aunt Phrasie; but I cannot go back till I have finished these courses. There's my picture, there's the cookery school, the ambulance lectures, and our sketching tour in August. Ever so many engagements. I shall be free in the autumn, and then I will go down and see about it. I told mother so.
Mrs. H. All the hot trying months of summer without help!
C. I never can understand why they don't have a governess.
Mrs. H. Can't you? Is there not a considerable outgoing on your behalf?
C. That is my own. I am not bound to educate my uncle's children at my expense.
Mrs. H. No; but if you contributed your share to the housekeeping, you would make a difference, and surely you cannot leave your mother to break down her health by overworking herself in this manner.
C. Why does grandpapa let her do so?
Mrs. H. Partly he does not see, partly he cannot help it. He has been so entirely accustomed to have all those family and parish details taken off his hands, and borne easily as they were when your dear grandmamma and I were both there at home, that he cannot understand that they can be over much-especially as they are so small in themselves. Besides, he is not so young as he was, and your dear mother cannot bear to trouble him.
C. Well, I shall go there in September and see about it. It is impossible before.
Mrs. H. In the hopping holidays, when the stress of work is over! Cannot you see with your own eyes how fagged and ill your mother looks, and how much she wants help?
C. Oh! she will be all right again after this rest. I tell you, Aunt Phrasie, it is impossible at present-(cab stops ).
IX. THE TWO SISTERS
SCENE.-A room in Professor Dunlop's house. Mrs. Moldwarp and Mrs. Holland.
Mrs. H. I have done my best, but I can't move her an inch.
Mrs. M. Poor dear girl! Yet it seems hardly fair to make my health the lever, when really there is nothing serious the matter.
Mrs. H. I can't understand the infatuation. Can there be any love affair?
Mrs. M. Oh no, Phrasie; it is worse!
Mrs. H. Worse! Mary, what can you mean?
Mrs. M. Yes, it is worse. I got at the whole truth yesterday. My poor child's faith has gone! Oh, how could I let her go and let her mingle among all those people, all unguarded!
Mrs. H. Do you mean that this is the real reason that she will not come home?
Mrs. M. Yes; she told me plainly at last that she could not stand our round of services. They seem empty and obsolete to her, and she could not feign to attend them or vex us, and cause remarks by staying away, and of course she neither could nor would teach anything but secular matters. 'My coming would be nothing but pain to everybody,' she said.
Mrs H. You did not tell me this before my drive with her.
Mrs. M. No, I never saw you alone; besides, I thought you would speak more freely without the knowledge. And, to tell the truth, I did think it possible that consideration for me might bring my poor Cissy down to us, and that when once under my father's influence, all these mists might clear away. But I do not deserve it. I have been an unfaithful parent, shutting my eyes in feeble indulgence, and letting her drift into these quicksands.
Mrs. H. Fashion and imitation, my dear Mary; it will pass away. Now, you are not to talk any more.