Lena Graham

by Cecilia Selby Lowndes

"Can't I leave it in your wardrobe and say nothing more about it?"

"The hat you may leave in my wardrobe, and you needn't wear it just yet,—indeed there won't be an opportunity for doing so,—but the work-basket must be taken down to the drawing-room. Both Lucy and Lena must learn to see it, dear, without wanting it."

Milly felt somehow that Lena wouldn't mind the work-basket so much, especially as she had a nice one of her own, while Milly's was an old and rather shabby one, so she took it down more contentedly; now that the hat was well out of sight, she hoped that it would soon be forgotten.

Lena walked out of the dining-room with a swelling heart and clouded brow. She had been very unkindly and ungently treated, she considered. It was very hard that Milly should have everything. What right had she to have a godmama who gave presents when she herself had not, forgetting that the Aunt who had done so much for her was her godmother as well as Aunt, and had done for her far more than Milly's had ever done. Running up to her bedroom for her garden-hat, she opened the drawer where her best hat was kept. She had thought it very pretty and nice when it was given her, but now, as she looked at it, and compared it with Milly's new one, she thought how shabby and plain it was. "Not even a feather!" And she shut to the drawer with a slam, and seizing her garden-hat ran downstairs again and out of the house. As she wandered on by herself, all the jealous fancies that had raised their heads before, now began slowly to return and show themselves once more. Ah me! Lena was not only allowing them to do so unopposed, but encouraging them both to come back and remain with her. Looking back at the house, she saw, through the open window of her mother's room, Milly standing up, and beside her stood Mrs. Graham. If Lena had only heard the words her sister was saying, her heart would have softened. "It was such a disappointment to her," the gentle voice pleaded; but unfortunately, the words were unheard, and Lena, turning her back to the sight, walked on hurriedly. "I knew she was Mama's favourite, she has got everything; it is me Mama might be sorry for. Oh, I wish Aunt Mary was here!" At this thought the tears filled her eyes, but she pressed them back; if any one saw her crying, they would think it was because she was sorry for the hat, and she would not let them think that Very soon she caught sight of Bessie coming across the fields. As soon as the latter saw her, she hurried on, calling out the moment she was within hearing, "Has the parcel arrived?"

"Yes," said Lena, trying to speak indifferently. "But it was only for Milly—a hat and a work-basket."

"Nothing for you?"

"No," said Lena with a shaky voice, which Bessie seeing, she slipped her arm in hers, saying, "What a shame! And nothing for little Lucy; she will be disappointed!"

Lena began to walk off in the direction away from the house; and Bessie, who was always good-natured, especially when any one was in trouble, walked beside her, and began telling her what they hoped to do the next day, when they were to spend the afternoon in the hay-field. "Mama wants Mrs. Graham to let Hester and the other servants come too—every one ought to help in the hay-field."

Lena did not return home until as late an hour as she dared to, but nothing was said by either Mama or Miss Marshall at her being a little late, both hoping that she had had time to reflect on what had passed, and that by this time she knew she alone had been to blame for the false hopes she had raised for herself and her little sister. Not one word did Lena say about the parcel or her disappointment. She would show them she did not care. And when Milly, who was longing for an opportunity to say something kind about it, saw that Lena did not wish the subject mentioned, she kept silence, only trying, by being extra kind and loving to her, to show she felt with and for her. When they were alone in their room Lena said she was tired and sleepy, hurrying over her undressing, and, alas! her prayers also. She did not wish to forgive, and the girl's mind was so clouded by her wrong and jealous thoughts, that she would not allow that she herself had any need of forgiveness. With a cold kiss she returned Milly's clinging, loving embrace; and prayerless—for no mere formal words, repeated from habit only, can be called prayer—and unhappy,—for how could she be otherwise with such thoughts as hers?—she closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep. So still did she lie, that when Mrs. Graham came in to see her little girls, as was her custom every night, Milly said softly, "Lena was tired, Mama, and she is asleep already."

"Poor child," said her Mother, "I won't stay and talk to you, dear, for fear of waking her. I am glad she has taken the disappointment so quietly." After kissing Milly, she stooped over Lena, and with a tender "God bless you, my child," she kissed her forehead softly, and left the room.