“Croquet!” said Rachel.
“Everything!” returned Bessie. “Four courtships in more or less progress, besides a few flirtations, and a house where all the neighbours were running in and out in a sociable way. Our loss was not as recent there as it was to him, and they were only nieces, so we could not have interfered with them; besides, my aunt was afraid he would be dull, and wanted to make the most of her conquering hero, and everybody came and complimented him, and catechised him whether he believed in the Indian mutilations, when, poor fellow, he had seen horrors enough never to bear to think of them, except when the fever brought them all over again. I am sure there was excuse enough for his being a little irritable.”
“My dear,” exclaimed Fanny, quite hurt, “he was patience itself while he was with us.”
“That’s the difference between illness and recovery, dear Lady Temple! I don’t blame him. Any one might be irritable with fresh undetected splinters of bone always working themselves out, all down one side; and doubts which were worse, the fingers on, or the fingers off, and no escape from folly or politeness, for he could not even use a crutch. Oh, no, I don’t blame him; I quite excuse the general dislike he took to everything at poor dear Littleworthy. He viewed it all like that child in Mrs. Browning’s poem, ‘seeing through tears the jugglers leap,’ and we have partaken of the juggler aspect to him ever since!”
“I don’t think he could ever be very irritable,” said Fanny, taking the accusation much to heart.
“Sister and recovery!” lightly said Bessie; “they encounter what no one else does! He only pined for Bishopsworthy, and when we let him move there, after the first month, he and my uncle were happy. I stayed there for a little while, but I was only in the way, the dear good folks were always putting themselves out on my account; and as to Alick, you can’t think how the absence of his poor ‘souffre-douleur,’ invigorated him. Every day I found him able to put more point into his cutting compliments, and reading to my uncle with more energy; till at last by the time the —th came home, he had not so much as a stiff leg to retire upon. Luckily, he and my uncle both cared too much for my poor father’s wishes for him to do so without, though if any unlucky chance should take Mr. Lifford away from my uncle, he threatens coming to supply the vacancy, unless I should, and that is past hope.”
“Your home is with your uncle,” affirmed Rachel.
“Yes,” she said, mournfully, “dear Littleworthy was too happy to last. It broke itself up by its own charms—all married and gone, and the last rose of summer in my poor person must float away. Jane wants her mother and not me, and my uncle will submit to me as cheerfully as to other necessary evils. It is not myself that I fear for; I shall be very happy with the dear uncle, but it will be a dreadful overthrow to his habits.”
“I do not see why it need be,” said Rachel.
“What! two old bachelors with a young lady turned in on them! And the housekeeper—think of her feelings!”