Richard seemed to make her his object in life, and was an unspeakable help and comforter to her, not only by taking every care for her for her sake, but by turning to her as his own friend and confidante, the best able to replace what they had lost. There were many plans to be put in operation for Cocksmoor, on which much consultation was needed, though every word reminded them sadly of Margaret's ever ready interest in those schemes. It was very unlike Ethel's vision of the first weeks of St. Andrew's Church; but it might be safer for her than that aught should tempt her to say, "See what my perseverance has wrought!" Perhaps her Margaret had begun to admire her too much to be her safest confidante--at any rate, it was good still to sow in tears, rather than on earth to reap in confident joy.
Norman was as brotherly and kind as possible; but it was one of the dreary feelings of those days, that Ethel then first became aware of the difference that his engagement had made, and saw that he resorted elsewhere for sympathy. She was not jealous, and acquiesced submissively and resolutely; but they had been so much to each other, that it was a trial, especially at such a time as this, when freshly deprived of Margaret.
Norman's own prospect was not cheerful. He had received a letter from New Zealand, begging him to hasten his coming out, as there was educational work much wanting him, and, according to his original wish, he could be ordained there in the autumnal Ember Week.
He was in much perplexity, since, according to this request, he ought to sail with his aunt in the last week of February, and he knew not how to reconcile the conflicting claims.
Meta was not long in finding out the whole of his trouble, as they paced up and down the terrace together on a frosty afternoon.
"You will go!" was her first exclamation.
"I ought," said Norman, "I believe I ought, and if it had only been at any other time, it would have been easy. My aunt's company would have been such a comfort for you."
"It cannot be helped," said Meta.
"Considering the circumstances," began Norman, with lingering looks at the little humming-bird on his arm, "I believe I should be justified in waiting till such time as you could go with me. I could see what Mr. Wilmot thinks."
"You don't think so yourself," said Meta. "Nobody else can give a judgment. In a thing like this, asking is, what you once called, seeking opinions as Balaam inquired."
"Turning my words against me?" said Norman, smiling. "Still, Meta, perhaps older heads would be fitter to judge what would be right for a little person not far off."
"She can be the best judge of that herself," said Meta. "Norman," and her dark eyes were steadfastly fixed, "I always resolved that, with God's help, I would not be a stumbling-block in the way of your call to your work. I will not. Go out now--perhaps you will be freer for it without me, and I suppose I have a longer apprenticeship to serve to all sorts of things before I come to help you."
"Oh, Meta, you are a rebuke to me!"
"What? when I am going to stay by my own fireside?" said Meta, trying to laugh, but not very successfully. "Seriously, I have much to do here. When poor Flora gets well, she must be spared all exertion for a long time to come; and I flatter myself that they want me at Stoneborough sometimes. If your father can bear to spare you, there is no doubt that you ought to go."
"My father is as unselfish as you are, Meta. But I cannot speak to him until he is more easy about Flora. We always think the required sacrifice the hardest, but I must own that I could not grieve if he laid his commands on me to wait till the autumn."
"Oh, that would make it a duty and all easy," said Meta, smiling; "but I don't think he will; and Aunt Flora will be only too glad to carry you out without encumbrance."
"Has not Aunt Flora come to her senses about you?"
"I believe she would rather I belonged to any of her nephews but you. She is such a dear, sincere, kind-hearted person, and we are so comfortable together, that it will be quite like home to come out to her! I mean there, to convince her that I can be of something like use."
Meta talked so as to brighten and invigorate Norman when they were together, but they both grew low-spirited when apart. The humming- bird had hardly ever been so downcast as at present--that is, whenever she was not engaged in waiting on her brother, or in cheering up Dr. May, or in any of the many gentle offices that she was ever fulfilling. She was greatly disappointed, and full of fears for Norman, and dread of the separation, but she would not give way; and only now and then, when off her guard, would the sadness reign on her face without an effort. Alone, she fought and prayed for resignation for herself, and protection and strength for him, and chid herself for the foolish feeling that he would be safer with her.
She told Aunt Flora how it was one evening, as they sat over the fire together, speaking with a would-be tone of congratulation.
"Indeed!" exclaimed Mrs. Arnott. "But that is a great pity!"
Meta looked quite brightened by her saying so. "I thought you would be glad," she rejoined.
"Did you think me so hard-hearted?"
"I thought you believed he would be better without me."
"My dear, we have not kept house and nursed together for a month for nothing," said Mrs. Arnott, smiling.
"Thank you," said Meta, trying to answer the smile. "You have taken a load off me!"
"I don't like it at all," said Mrs. Arnott. "It is a very uncomfortable plan for every one. And yet when I know how great is the want of him out there, I can say nothing against it without high treason. Well, my dear, I'll take all the care I can of Norman, and when you come, I shall be almost as glad as if we were coming home for good. Poor Flora! she is one person who will not regret the arrangement."
"Poor Flora!--you think her really better this evening?"
"Much better, indeed; if we could only raise her spirits, I think she would recover very well; but she is so sadly depressed. I must try to talk to Ethel--she may better understand her."
"I have never understood Flora," said Meta. "She has been as kind to me as possible, and I very soon came to a certain point with her, but I never have known her thoroughly. I doubt whether any one did but dear Margaret."
Flora was, however, much softened and less reserved than she had been. She found great repose in her aunt's attendance, retracing, as it did, her mother's presence, and she responded to her tenderness with increasing reliance and comfort; while as her strength began to revive, and there was more disposition to talk, she became gradually drawn into greater confidence.
The seeing of Ethel was one of the difficult questions. Flora had begun to wish it very much, and yet the bare idea threw her into a nervous tremor, that caused it to be put off again and again. Her aunt found her one day almost faint with agitation--she had heard Ethel's voice in the next room, and had been winding up her expectations, and now was as much grieved as relieved, to find that she had been there seeing the baby, but was now gone.
"How does the dear Ethel look?" asked Flora presently.
"She is looking better to-day; she has looked very worn and harassed, but I thought her brighter to-day. She walked over by Aubrey on his pony, and I think it did her good."
"Dear old Ethel! Aunt, it is a thing that no one has told me yet. Can you tell me how she bore the news of Norman Ogilvie's engagement?"
"Do you mean--" and Mrs. Arnott stopped short in her interrogation.
"Yes," said Flora, answering the pause.
"But I thought young Ogilvie a most unexceptionable person."
"So he is," said Flora. "I was much annoyed at the time, but she was resolute."
"In rejecting him?"
"In running away as soon as she found what was likely to happen;" and Flora, in a few words, told what had passed at Oxford.