CHAPTER II.
Circumstances had prevented my going to Rathfelder's Hotel (my young readers will understand it is Maria Marlow who now speaks) when, on a former occasion, Charlotte had been taken there, and I was gleefully chatting away to uncle and aunt of the anticipated pleasure as the former at last made her appearance.
"Oh, Lotty, Lotty, my child, how comes it about that you are again so late for breakfast?" aunty said, more in a tone of kindness than reproof, as she raised her face to receive the customary kiss which we always bestowed upon both our guardians when first greeting them in the morning; "you promised that for the future you would endeavour to be earlier."
"Yes, and it's all Susan's fault that I have not kept my promise this morning, aunty. I was out of bed, waiting for her to come and get me my bath, for nearly—" Here Charlotte, meeting uncle's eyes, suddenly checked herself, remembering how greatly he and aunt disapproved of an exaggerated style of speaking. The real truth was, as Susan had told me, that about eight or ten minutes had elapsed between the time of my looking into the bed-room to see if Lotty was up, which she was not, and my sending her there; and even that time need not have been wasted had Charlotte taken the trouble to ring her bell. "For a long while, at any rate," she continued. "Mechie came and found me sitting on the bedside—didn't you, Mechie?—and stared at me as though I had been a ghost," she concluded, sinking indolently into her chair.
I was glad to take refuge in a light laugh instead of further answer, knowing how little the case admitted of any reply likely to prove satisfactory to Charlotte. To my relief, also, uncle covered my silence by saying gently:
"Do not forget your grace, my dear girl. Let us always bear in mind from whose gracious hand it is we receive every blessing we enjoy, and be grateful with our hearts and thankful with our lips."
Charlotte directly stood up, and silently bent her fair head for a few seconds, and again resumed her seat. Aunt Rossiter did not at that time farther press the point on the subject of late rising. She detected, by our manner, that something was wrong, but, as was her custom on like occasions—that is, whenever the matter in hand seemed taking a zigzag course instead of the straight road of truth—she delayed speaking until such time as more favourable circumstances or a better state of feeling in the delinquent rendered it judicious to do so.
The breakfast was nearly concluded as Charlotte came in, and soon after Uncle Rossiter rose to quit the room. In passing her chair he affectionately laid his hand on her head, saying, gravely, "In being down so late, my child, mark, what are the consequences: first and principally, you have missed the prayer and chapter in the Bible; secondly, the meal is nearly over, therefore all is cold and comfortless; thirdly, you have vexed your good, kind aunt, to say nothing of myself, and now you must hasten, for the carriage will be at the door by ten, as we must not lose the cool part of the day for driving."