“It was very foolish in me to propose this,” Leila answered, “for I dare say all cats are the same, and our Selina almost mewed her heart out when she was first put into the ship—she can’t bear strange places either.”
Once more she looked around the room to see if all was perfect; the small latticed window with the China-roses clustering in about it, she was sure would delight Peggy, for Peggy was so fond of flowers; might they not gather a few and make a nosegay for the middle of the table. The next moment they were all in the little garden—the flowers were quickly gathered and arranged, and after giving Bill many injunctions to be so very kind as to step up frequently and put more wood on the fire, and also to be quite sure to send off a quick messenger the very moment Peggy and the pets entered the gates, they left the cottage.
They had not time to enter the house at Woodlands, where all with regard to furnishing had been going on prosperously, but they had seen what had been done there more than once. Leila had thought it all beautiful, but she had a simple taste; she really did not like fine things, and her only request with regard to the furnishing had been, “Nothing fine in my room, papa—please, nothing fine; just a nice little bed with white dimity curtains, and a large sea-grass mat under my little washhand-stand, for I don’t like to wash and dash and splash on a Brussels carpet.”
The rest of the day passed in pleasant expectation, but towards evening the young people got very restless indeed, and little Alfred was perpetually popping out at the door and running a little way down the gravel walk, in the hope of meeting some one from Woodlands, and bringing the first intelligence; but no carrier-pigeon or swift messenger of any kind arrived; and at a later hour than usual the young people retired to rest, disappointed, but not alarmed. To-morrow was a new day, and to-morrow would bring all they wished. But to-morrow came; it was a long trying day of expectation, and still no tidings were received. It was with great difficulty that they could attend at all to their lessons; but Mrs. Stanley was very indulgent, and repeated most of them herself; and the moment they were over, she despatched them all to count over their clothes, and to put their drawers in order; to be busy and active was what she particularly required of them on that long, long day. It came to an end at last, and they went early to bed; but Mr. Howard had now become seriously uneasy, and next morning, as soon as breakfast was over, went to London to inquire at the steamboat office if they had received any intelligence with regard to the “Victoria.”
Leila’s face quite brightened as she saw him depart; the very idea that he would bring back intelligence quite raised her spirits; she never for a moment dreaded that this intelligence might not be favourable.
Mr. Howard returned sooner than was expected, but he had learned nothing. Neither the Victoria, nor the other steamboat which had sailed on the same day, had come in, and the owners were in much anxiety, as there were reports of several wrecks on the coast. This last part of the intelligence received, Mr. Howard did not communicate to Leila, but he looked anxious, and she knew his face too well not to feel considerable alarm. Next day he again went to London. Mrs. Stanley saw it would be too much to ask any of them to attend to their lessons; Leila was beginning to have a pale, exhausted look, she therefore gave Selina a book of natural history to read to them aloud, while the other two worked by the window. Poor Leila, she did not listen much. She worked very little, and looked out a great deal; after some hours horses’ hoofs were heard on the gravel walk; she saw her papa alight at the door; her heart beat violently; she felt unable to move; he looked up and smiled; she could not read that smile; it was sweet as usual, for when was his smile ever otherwise when it rested on her? But it was a melancholy smile. He entered the room, they all clustered round him.
“The Victoria has come in,” he said.
Leila clapped her hands. “My pets, my pets,” she cried; “and Dash, and Peggy Dobie—all—ALL safe!”
“Dear child,” Mr. Howard continued, looking anxiously at her, “dear child, your pets are safe, but Dash and Peggy—” he stopped.
“What of them, papa? Oh tell me, tell me quick—why do you look so grieved?”