"Such a result is not to be wondered at, my little Mechie," uncle said, smiling encouragingly on this my first serious attempt to turn an erring fellow-creature from the path of sin. "I was walking up and down the stoop a little while ago with mine host Rathfelder, and this gardener passed at the time, and impressed me, as he did you, with an unpleasant feeling of what a singularly unprepossessing-looking being he was. It seems Rathfelder's former gardener was old and sick and obliged to give up work, and Joe Blurdon, as he calls himself, was engaged a few weeks ago to supply his place. The exigencies of the case—for no other labourer in that capacity could be obtained just then—prevented our landlord from being as particular regarding character as he usually is, and he unfortunately contented himself with receiving a short, unsatisfactory recommendation from his last master, for whom he had worked a very little while, and whose place is the only one he has filled with the exception of Rathfelder's since his coming to the Cape. He is drunken, idle, discontented and altogether worthless, the landlord says, and is to leave his service in a few days. So you see, my darling Mechie, if you had succeeded, as in your amiable heart you wished, in making a convert of that misguided man, you would indeed have achieved a great victory."
CHAPTER X.
To my extreme satisfaction—for there was a vast deal in this wild, out-of-the-world place which particularly took my fancy—uncle and aunt decided upon our remaining a week at Rathfelder's Hotel. Dear aunt had passed a better night than she had done for a long while, Uncle Rossiter said, which made him desirous of trying the effect of a longer stay, and he should go home that day to arrange accordingly and bring back Susan to attend us.
Aunt met my examining eyes fixed upon her—oh, she knew not how anxiously—and smiled lovingly upon me. It was a bright smile, and yet a sad one too. Ah me! what keen note I was beginning to take of every look and tone which came from her now!
"But why can't you sleep, aunty?" inquired Charlotte, carelessly. "Aren't you well?"
"One thing is certain, dear Lotty: we cannot expect always to enjoy the same health," she replied, I thought evasively. "By-the-bye," she continued, abruptly changing the subject, "we must not forget, dear," turning to Uncle Rossiter, "that our wardrobes will require an addition with this unexpected increase of absence from home, so please bear that in mind and mention it to Susan."
In the course of the morning aunt and I went into the garden to enjoy its shade and sweetness. Charlotte preferred remaining on the balcony with her books and work, and as we were the only visitors at that time in the hotel, she would not be interrupted. Having taken a few turns about the paths, we seated ourselves on a rustic bench delightfully shaded by a narquotte tree, whose branches were clustered over with a delicious little golden fruit, while the surrounding air was redolent of odour from a group of young lemon trees in full bloom, and other rich scents.
And now I turned over in my mind how best to introduce the subject nearest my heart. Happily, Aunt Rossiter opened a way for me at once by saying, anxiously: "What makes my little girl so unusually grave and silent this morning? I trust you are not ill, dear child? or has anything occurred between Charlotte and yourself to vex you?"