MIRIAM, excited and angry still, went up to her little attic to prepare for her walk, carrying up with her the box which Caroline had brought down. With Miriam the storm had not yet blown over.
"For Caroline, indeed, to talk about seeing anything in my box!" she muttered, as she put down her burden on the floor with a heavy bang. "She knows well enough that I'd no more stoop to do the mean things that she does, than I'd go begging barefoot about the streets! And to think of mistress listening for a moment to the backbiting sneak! I'm glad that I gave her warning! I'd rather be a galley-slave, I would, than stop in a place where I am not trusted."
Miriam's mind was like a piece of water that has been violently disturbed, and which can reflect nothing distinctly; every image is distorted and confused. But even before she had quitted the house, reason had begun to resume its quiet power, and Miriam to have a suspicion that her own conduct in the affair had not been altogether either sensible or right.
"I wonder if Hamil will think that I have done a foolish thing," said Miriam to herself, as she went out into the street, where the freshness of the air served to help in cooling her temper.
"He was vexed when he heard of my leaving my last place, just because I had quarrelled with the nurse. I shall only have a four months' character now, and, after all, four mouths was hardly a long enough time for mistress to know me so well as to listen to nothing against me. I wish that I had kept my temper better, but I can't help flaring up when any one touches my character. I am so much afraid that Hamil will be vexed. He is so quiet and calm and wise himself, he has such a beautiful temper; I never knew him fly into a passion in all his life! He knows I have been a peppery little thing from my childhood, only I never was angry with him, oh! No—I never could be angry with him!"
Tender thoughts of her brother still further calmed the spirit of Miriam; the troubled waters were becoming quiet as a mirror again, and the excited mind could once more reflect. Miriam began now to think that she had come on a useless errand, for it was likely enough that she might not be able to have a word with her brother, who did not expect in the least to see her at such a time, and who would probably be engaged in performing military duty. Besides this, Miriam was by far too modest and well-conducted a girl to go to the barracks alone, without any proper protection. How was she to let her brother know that she was waiting to see him, and wishing to ask his advice?
"I do believe that I shall have to go back again just as wise as I came. I've been acting the part of a foolish, ill-tempered child," thought Miriam, as she slackened her pace, walking up Albany Street towards the barracks. Here, however, Miriam was mistaken, for the thought had scarcely crossed her mind, when her glance fell on a tall form in uniform that she knew well, on the opposite side of the street.
"Oh! This is fortunate indeed," exclaimed Miriam, "to think that Hamil should be the first soldier whom I should meet!"
She had little time for self-gratulation, however, for as she spoke Hamil turned aside from the pavement, and disappeared within the door of a public-house.
Miriam had been heated by exercise and excitement, but now she turned suddenly cold. The terror which had struck her two months before when she had looked at that same dear form staggering under the influence of drink, came over her again, and almost overpowered her. Was her brother, the brave noble-hearted brother, whom she so fondly loved, he of whom she had been so proud, was he yielding again to that deadly vice, which would sink him lower than the brutes!