“I don’t think she is,” said Margaret; “but she does not set her face against what others wish. As papa says of his dear little humming-bird, she takes the honey, and leaves the poison.”
“Yes; amid all that enjoyment, she is always choosing the good, and leaving the evil; always sacrificing something, and then being happy in the sacrifice!”
“No one would guess it was a sacrifice, it is so joyously done—least of all Meta herself.”
“Her coming home from London was exactly a specimen of that sacrifice—and no sacrifice,” said Ethel.
“What was that?” said Norman, who had come up to the window unobserved, and had been listening to their few last sentences.
“Did not you hear of it? It was a sort of material turning away from vanity that made me respect the little rival Daisy, as much as I always admired her.
“Tell me,” said Norman. “When was it?”
“Last spring. You know Mr. Rivers is always ill in London: indeed, papa says it would be the death of him; but Lady Leonora Langdale thinks it dreadful that Meta should not go to all the gaieties; and last year, when Mrs. Larpent was gone, she insisted on her coming to stay with her for the season. Now Meta thought it wrong to leave her father alone, and wanted not to have gone at all, but, to my surprise, Margaret advised her to yield, and go for some short fixed time.”
“Yes,” said Margaret; “as all her elders thought it right, I did not think we could advise her to refuse absolutely. Besides, it was a promise.”
“She declared she would only stay three weeks, and the Langdales were satisfied, thinking that, once in London, they should keep her. They little knew Meta, with her pretty ways of pretending that her resolution is only spoiled-child wilfulness. None of you quite trusted her, did you, Margaret? Even papa was almost afraid, though he wanted her very much to be at home; for poor Mr. Rivers was so low and forlorn without her, though he would not let her know, because Lady Leonora had persuaded him to think it was all for her good.”