“Dear, dear Dr. May!” was her first exclamation. “Oh, how happy you must all be! And Margaret?” She looked up at Norman, and came nearer. “Is not Mr. Ernescliffe come?” she asked softly, and trembling.
“No,” was the low answer, which Harry could not bear to hear, and therefore walked to the window. “No, Meta, but Margaret is much comforted about him. He died in great peace—in his arms”—as he signed towards his brother. And as Harry continued to gaze out on the stars of gas on the opposite side of the park, he was able to add a few of the particulars.
Meta’s eyes glistened with tears, as she said, “Perhaps it would have been too perfect if he had come; but oh, Norman! how good she is to bear it so patiently! And how gloriously he behaved! How can we make enough of him! And Flora out! how sorry she will be!”
“And she never opened Mary’s letter,” said Harry, coming back to them.
“She little thought what it contained,” said Meta. “Mary’s letters are apt to bear keeping, you know, and she was so busy, that she laid it aside for a treat after the day’s work. But there! inhospitable wretch that I am! you have had no dinner!”
A refection of tea and cold meat was preferred, and in her own pretty manner Meta lavished her welcomes, trying to cover any pain given by Flora’s neglect.
“What makes her so busy?” asked Harry, looking round on the beautifully furnished apartment, which, to many eyes besides those fresh from a Milanesian hut, might have seemed a paradise of luxurious ease.
“You don’t know what an important lady you have for a sister,” said Meta merrily.
“But tell me, what can she have to do? I thought you London ladies had nothing to do, but to sit with your hands before you entertaining company.”
Meta laughed heartily. “Shall I begin at the beginning? I’ll describe to-day then, and you must understand that this is what Tom would call a mild specimen—only one evening engagement. Though, perhaps, I ought to start from last night at twelve o’clock, when she was at the Austrian Ambassador’s ball, and came home at two; but she was up by eight—she always manages to get through her housekeeping matters before breakfast. At nine, breakfast, and baby—by the bye, you have never inquired for our niece.”