"Yes, everything," sighed Margaret.
"You would have gone to the opera, certainly; papa would have taken you there, and you would have been out half the day shopping, and driving in the parks; and you would have seen everything, and bought anything you wished,—for, of course, your papa would have given you plenty of money to do as you liked with; and then my aunt would have taken us to some delightful parties. But it is not worth while to think about it now; because if you go for your aunt's illness, and have no one to take you about, you will be at your lessons half the day, and staying at home with her the other half; and there will be nothing to be seen, because you must choose such a very quiet part of the town for an invalid."
"Oh Lucy!" said Margaret, "I wish you would not talk so. It is very unkind; for you know it will be all your doing."
"My doing! No, indeed I can't help it. Get rid of Miss Morton, and I will go directly. And now I have said all I wished, and so I think I shall turn back, for you told me you wanted to go to Dora; and really I have had quite enough of those school-girls this morning."
Margaret did not press her to stay, for she was becoming very indignant; but neither was she inclined to make any exertions to be agreeable; and, soon persuading herself that the walking party had advanced too far for her to overtake them, she rather sulkily turned back and followed Miss Cunningham, keeping, however, at a convenient distance, that she might be able to think over the conversation, and find some arguments which should induce her to break the resolution she had formed.
Amy in the meantime, enjoyed her walk with her companions in perfect unconsciousness that anything was near to disturb her happiness. She laughed at Julia Stanley's strange stories, till she forgot by degrees she had been afraid of her; and although every tree and stone were familiar, there was a pleasure in pointing out to strangers all the beauties of the grounds, even in their wintry dress; and good-humour being proverbially infectious, the whole party returned home in all the better spirits that they had been spared Miss Cunningham's sulkiness and pride. The first news, however, that awaited Amy upon entering the house, was the information from Susan Reynolds that Mr Harrington had prevailed on her mamma to see Dr Bailey. Amy started and turned pale, and anxiously asked if her mamma were very ill.
"Oh, dear! no," replied Susan, frightened in her turn; "but I thought you would be glad to know your mamma was going to see a doctor, because then, perhaps, she will get strong again."
"Yes; but she must be worse, I am sure," said Amy; "she never would send for any one unless she were very ill indeed." And without waiting to hear more, she hastily ran to Mrs Herbert's room. But her fears were soon calmed. Mrs Herbert was looking much the same as usual, and seemed in tolerable spirits, and quite laughed at Amy's alarm.
"I have only consented to see Dr Bailey," she said, "just to satisfy your uncle; and it was very foolish in any one to frighten you, my dear child, so unnecessarily; so now go to your dinner, and forget me, and be happy."
"That would not be the way to be happy, mamma. I never enjoy anything till I have remembered that I can tell you about it. But are you sure you are not very ill?"