"It is a great privilege to be able to help a good cause," said the captain, again addressing his brother. "My girl does not content herself with gathering money; she gives her work, which is something better. Her little fingers were busy for the fancy fair held for our schools: she made two bags and seven purses—"
"Four bags and eight purses," interrupted Lydia, "and six round pincushions besides. The Charters did not furnish so much, though there are three of them to work. But they are such an idle set of girls, and I don't think they care about schools."
"Four bags and eight purses, to say nothing of the pincushions; pretty well for one little pair of hands!" said the captain, turning again to his brother, in expectation of an approving smile or word; but no smile was given, no word was uttered. Lydia glanced at her uncle in surprise, but could not understand the almost sad expression on her relative's kind face. Could she have read his thoughts, they would have run somewhat as follows:
"It is clear that these fond parents are content with their child, and that the child is content with herself; she has enough of the sweet poison of flattering praise without my pouring out more from a selfish desire to make myself a favorite here. My brother thinks his Lydia perfect, and believes that the soil, cultivated with tender care, is already covered with a glorious harvest. But what is it that eyes less blinded by partial affection see there? In ten minutes I have unwillingly beheld the weeds of pride, selfishness, and disobedience, a disposition to evil speaking, covetousness, and a silly thirst for praise. Small indeed the faults now appear, as weeds scarce showing above the soil; but it is evident that the roots are there, and I fear that the harvest will be different indeed from what my brother expects. What shall I do? Speak openly to him? I fear that the only result would be to wound—perhaps to offend him; he would think me unjust or severe, and retain his own opinion. I must gain some quiet opportunity of speaking a word to Lydia herself; she is an intelligent, sensible girl; but I can see too plainly by her manner toward her mother that nothing will be welcome to the young lady that comes in the shape of reproof. My conscience will not suffer me to leave my niece to her blind security; I will make at least an attempt to open her eyes to the truth."
The party now dispersed—Lydia to take off her hat and cape; the two gentlemen to visit a friend. During their walk, Captain Neill could scarcely discourse on any subject but that of his daughter. He told anecdote after anecdote, which had been treasured up in his affectionate heart; but his conversation only served to convince Mr. Neill that Lydia, brought up in a pious family, had acquired but a sort of hothouse religion, that could stand no blast of temptation. He felt that though his niece might do many things that were certainly proper and right, she only did them when they suited her pleasure; her proud will was yet unbroken—her impatient temper unsubdued.
In the evening, Mr. Neill was sitting alone in the little study, when Lydia entered the room. The girl was anxious to please her uncle, of whose character she had heard high praise, and whose gentle, courteous manner was well suited to win young hearts.
"I like him," thought Lydia, "and I will make him like me." So approaching Mr. Neill, and laying her hand on the back of his chair, she said in her most pleasing manner, "Can I do anything for you, dear uncle?"
"Yes, my dear, you can read the Bible to me; I shall be glad of the help of your young eyes, for mine have suffered from the climate of India."
"I will read with pleasure," said Lydia, taking up the Bible; and she spoke no more than the truth. She was glad to do a kindness to her uncle, but was more glad still of an opportunity of showing him how beautifully she could read aloud.
"Do you wish any particular chapter?" she inquired.