“I am not hunting after acquaintances; I’ve neither health nor spirits for society,” replied Gaspar, rising languidly from his chair; “and as for these grandees of the Castle, I should not find them much in my line, however much they may be in yours.”
The brother and sister, after a cold “Good-night,” retired to their several apartments, Isa asking herself as she ascended the chilly staircase whether it were his fault or her own that she was disappointed in Gaspar.
She found her little servant Lottie awaiting her in her room, ready to perform the offices of lady’s-maid, in which the young rustic took great pride and pleasure. Lottie Stone was a source of amusement as well as of interest to Isa; in her simplicity and ignorance she was so utterly unlike any of her class whom the lady had met with before. The girl, painfully shy before strangers, had a naive frankness with her young mistress, which was almost like the confidence of a child. Isa by no means discouraged this confidence, which gave her much influence over the young being placed under her care. The rustic knew little of manners, and was once detected in the act of snuffing the candle with her fingers. Isa in vain tried to teach her to understand the thermometer by which the valetudinarian regulated the heat of his room, and seemed to have no idea of the difference between hot weather and cold. Gaspar used angrily to declare that Lottie was certain to leave the window open whenever a sharp east wind was blowing. In defiance of etiquette, if anything playful were said at table, Lottie Stone was certain to laugh; and she would stand, dish in hand, to listen to a lively anecdote related by Isa to her brother, quite oblivious of the fact that the viands were growing cold. Gently and smilingly Isa corrected the mistakes of the inexperienced Lottie, and tried to soften down the displeasure of Mr. Gritton, who was far less disposed to show indulgence. Much might be excused, she would observe, in a girl so perfectly honest and truthful: the grain of the wood was so good, that it was worth taking the trouble to work it, and the polish would be added in time. Isa encouraged Lottie to open her heart to her without reserve: but for this kindly intercourse between mistress and maid, the life of the young girl would have had little of brightness, as Hannah, the only other servant, was both ill-tempered and deaf. “Miss Isa” was all in all to Lottie, looked up to, beloved and obeyed with affectionate devotion. Lottie’s happiest time was the half-hour spent at night with her mistress; for while she brushed Isa’s long silky tresses, the lady entered into conversation with her. When Miss Gritton first trusted her beautiful hair into Lottie’s inexperienced hands, she had something to suffer as well as to teach; but pains and patience had their usual effect, and it was only when the little maid was speaking of something of special interest that she tried the philosophy of her kind young mistress.
ISA AND LOTTIE STONE.
“So you were at the lecture to-night, Lottie. I hope that you were attentive to all that the clergyman said.”
“I did try to be so, Miss Isa; there were things as I couldn’t make out; but Mrs. Bolder and me, we was talking it over all the way home, and was looking for the Midianites in the heart.”
“And did you find any?” asked Isa.
“Mrs. Bolder, she was a-saying that it’s very hard to keep out distrust when things go so contrary in life. She has a deal of trouble, has Mrs. Bolder, now that her husband’s laid up and crippled with rheumatics, and she’s all the work of the shop upon her; it’s a’most too much for her, she says. She can’t help wondering why God should send such sickness and pain to her husband, who was al’ays a good, steady-going man, and a tea-totaller,”—Lottie uttered the word almost with reverence; “if he’d been given to drink it would have been different, you know.”