The removal to Woodlands now took place, and the following morning Mrs. Roberts granted a holiday to the young people, that every room in the house might be visited and properly admired, and also that Leila might have time to settle with Susan as to a convenient arrangement for several of her pets, while, with the assistance of her cousins, she hung the cages with the parrots and the smaller birds up in the conservatory. She had for some time been bringing up a pair of turtle-doves as a gift to Mina, and teaching a young parrot to speak, which she intended for Louisa. The turtle-doves were now at a very interesting age, just beginning to be independent, and to coo to each other in a most melodious manner, and the parrot gave proof of fine abilities, and could already say, “I am Louisa’s pretty bird.”
The house was most comfortably though simply furnished; but the conservatory delighted Leila more than any part of it: the flowers so fragrant, so bright and beautiful, and the birds so happy, they were already singing in the branches. Once more she walked about amongst the birds and flowers, and felt that but for one sad thought she would not have had a wish ungratified. She quite longed to give her papa an account of all her arrangements, and went in search of him. She found Mr. Howard reading in his library, but he answered her little tap at his door with his usual kind voice.
“Come in, I think I know who is there; what have you got to tell me, love?” and the book was thrown aside, and she, seated on a low stool at his knee, kept looking up in his face, and pouring out her little history, he entering into all her arrangements with all the attention and satisfaction her heart could desire. “And now, papa,” she continued, “you know I am of a great age now, I am eleven, and I want to talk to you a little about my responsibilities.”
“Your responsibilities, my love!—that is a very fine word for you; where did you pick up that word, Leila?”
“I think it is a very nice word, papa, and I understand it; and you must know I have responsibilities in my new home, for I heard Aunt Stanley say to Mrs. Roberts the other day, that Miss Palmer had gone now to keep her father’s house, and would have many responsibilities; that besides the regulating the house, and attending in every way to his comfort, she would also have the school to attend to, and the poor people to visit, and it was a large parish. I could not find out what a large parish meant, but I understood all the rest; and don’t you think, papa, I should have a school, also, and visit the poor people?”
“No, dear Leila; I think you are too young to have a school at present; but don’t look so disappointed, my love; let us talk this matter over quietly. Miss Palmer is a great many years older than you are, she is a grown-up young lady, and it is quite right that she should in every way imitate her excellent mother’s example, and endeavour to make up as much as lies in her power for the loss they have sustained in Mrs. Palmer’s death: but you, my love, are still a child, and requiring too much instruction yourself to be able to instruct others; yet you, dear Leila, also have your responsibilities.”
“I am so glad of that papa,”—and her countenance brightened again.
“Yes,” Mr. Howard continued, “you are responsible for the talents God has entrusted to you, for the employment of your time, for the cultivation of the abilities He has given you; for the use you make of the religious instruction you receive in correcting your faults; you are by nature ardent and impetuous, you must struggle for the mastery over yourself; for more self-denial, in rejecting the sudden impulses by which you are governed; you must try to check that excessive sensibility which, if indulged in, must unfit you for the necessary exertion for the welfare of others which is so high a duty, and without which you would soon become a useless, selfish being—turning away from the misery of others, from the fear of what you yourself must feel in witnessing it.”
“But, papa, if I am not to teach a school or visit the poor, and only to cultivate abilities, is not that turning away from others, is not that being selfish?”
“But, my dear Leila, it is by no means my wish that you should turn away from others; though you are as yet too young to teach a school yourself, you are not too young to accompany your Aunt Stanley when she goes to visit the school, in which she takes so much interest. Selina often accompanies her; I shall ask her to allow you to do so also; and in this way you will become acquainted with the duties you will, I trust, one day fulfil yourself. You will, also, accompany me in visiting the poor; you have now a weekly allowance, which, though not much, will still enable you, by practising self-denial in some of your own desires, to save a little each week for the benefit of others: with this you can sometimes buy materials which may be useful to poor children; and by employing some part of your time in making them up, you can bestow a double benefit; for remember, Leila, it is not real charity to give of your superfluity only.”