“I believe she would rather I belonged to any of her nephews but you. She is such a dear, sincere, kind-hearted person, and we are so comfortable together, that it will be quite like home to come out to her! I mean there, to convince her that I can be of something like use.”
Meta talked so as to brighten and invigorate Norman when they were together, but they both grew low-spirited when apart. The humming-bird had hardly ever been so downcast as at present—that is, whenever she was not engaged in waiting on her brother, or in cheering up Dr. May, or in any of the many gentle offices that she was ever fulfilling. She was greatly disappointed, and full of fears for Norman, and dread of the separation, but she would not give way; and only now and then, when off her guard, would the sadness reign on her face without an effort. Alone, she fought and prayed for resignation for herself, and protection and strength for him, and chid herself for the foolish feeling that he would be safer with her.
She told Aunt Flora how it was one evening, as they sat over the fire together, speaking with a would-be tone of congratulation.
“Indeed!” exclaimed Mrs. Arnott. “But that is a great pity!”
Meta looked quite brightened by her saying so. “I thought you would be glad,” she rejoined.
“Did you think me so hard-hearted?”
“I thought you believed he would be better without me.”
“My dear, we have not kept house and nursed together for a month for nothing,” said Mrs. Arnott, smiling.
“Thank you,” said Meta, trying to answer the smile. “You have taken a load off me!”
“I don’t like it at all,” said Mrs. Arnott. “It is a very uncomfortable plan for every one. And yet when I know how great is the want of him out there, I can say nothing against it without high treason. Well, my dear, I’ll take all the care I can of Norman, and when you come, I shall be almost as glad as if we were coming home for good. Poor Flora! she is one person who will not regret the arrangement.”