"Oh yes," replied Amy, "you always keep your word."
"And if I read to you in God's Word, the description of the beautiful home in which, our Saviour tells us, we shall one day live, will you not believe Him?" But Amy did not answer, for her heart was full. "I will not talk any more to you now, my dear child," continued Mrs Herbert: "but I will read to you presently those two concluding chapters in the last book in the Bible, which you have only occasionally heard. They will do far more to calm your mind than anything I can say."
Amy went to her room; and the last sound that mingled with her dreams, was her mother's gentle voice, as she sat by the bedside, describing to her, in the words of the Bible, the blessedness of that glorious city, which shall have no "need of the sun, neither of the moon, to shine in it; for the glory of God shall lighten it, and the Lamb shall be the light thereof."
CHAPTER XI.
The autumn months passed quickly away, and brought but little change in Amy's life, except that her visits to Emmerton became less frequent, as the uncertainty of the weather obliged her to depend more upon her uncle's carriage; but she still practised her music under her mother's direction, and copied Miss Morton's drawings at home, and made up by diligence for the superior advantages which her cousins enjoyed. The London plan had been often mentioned, but, as Margaret foretold, Mrs Harrington was decidedly opposed to it, and became at last quite annoyed whenever any reference was made to it; and the idea would probably have completely died away, had it not been for Miss Cunningham, who, notwithstanding the distance between Emmerton and the Park, contrived to be a very constant visitor; and whenever she appeared, London was invariably the theme of conversation. There needed no description, however, to excite Margaret's wishes, and Dora would have been equally anxious, if her dislike to Miss Cunningham had not prevented her from entering into any scheme of enjoyment in which she was to participate. But Miss Cunningham's earnestness on the subject did not exhaust itself in mere words. Her first object had been to induce her papa to urge the scheme on Mrs Harrington as often as they met, and when, after many trials, this was found to fail, the only thing that remained was to get rid of the one great obstacle, Emily Morton. Lord Rochford was persuaded to criticise her drawings, to find fault with her style of playing, and to declare that her voice was extremely indifferent, in the hope that Mrs Harrington might at last yield to the necessity of having better instruction for her daughters. But Mrs Harrington was not so easily deceived; she was far too good a judge of both music and drawing, to be influenced by what Lord Rochford said, and only answered him with cool indifference in public, and laughed at his ignorance in private. Yet Margaret and her friend did not despair. There was one resource left; though Mrs Harrington could not be persuaded to part with Miss Morton, Miss Morton might be induced to leave Mrs Harrington; and when this notion entered their heads, a series of petty persecutions commenced according to a plan that had been determined on at Rochford Park, which, with any other disposition, could hardly have failed of success. But Miss Morton was invulnerable; she felt that it was her duty to remain at Emmerton; and without paying any attention to looks and inuendoes, or even open words, she pursued her round of daily duties with the same unruffled temper, the same cheerful smile, as if her life had been one of uninterrupted happiness. The only difference observable was during Miss Cunningham's visits, when she generally spent as much of her time with Rose in her own room as was possible; and this, quite as much on the little girl's account as on her own; for Miss Cunningham, having just cleverness sufficient to discover that Rose was Miss Morton's great interest and anxiety, endeavoured to interfere with her in every possible way, distracting her attention from anything in which she might be engaged, and teazing her so much, that even Dora's indignation was at length roused. Of all this, Amy saw but little. The days were now so short that she had only time to take her lesson and return home; but she could not help observing it occasionally, and then longed to be Miss Morton's friend, and to be a comfort to her; and still more did she wish that Emily could be often with her mamma, and be enabled to tell her all she was suffering. But to this there was an obstacle, which Miss Morton would have felt, though Amy was not sensible of it. To have repeated all that passed at Emmerton, would have been in her eyes betraying the secrecy in some degree necessary in private life, and to Mrs Harrington's sister it would have been quite impossible. If there was a complaint to be made, Mrs Harrington was the person to whom to apply for the remedy; and if she did not choose to do this, it could not be right to seek assistance from any other person; and thus, day after day, Emily bore silently and meekly the scorn of folly and ignorance, with but one Friend to guide her, one hope to cheer her, and yet feeling that that Friend and that hope were sufficient in all things for her comfort. Mrs Herbert's interest in Miss Morton had been much excited by Amy's account, and she was induced to think over many plans that might render her life happier. The undertaking, however, was a difficult one, for it was impossible to intrude on her confidence; and there were few opportunities for gaining it, as Mrs Harrington always made some objection to her going to the cottage. Perhaps she feared that Miss Morton's history of her life at Emmerton might not sound favourably in her sister's ears; but, whatever might be the cause, the dislike became so apparent, that Mrs Herbert gave up all hope of being useful, until the idea of an introduction to Mrs Walton suggested itself to her mind. In her Miss Morton would find everything that she could require; warm affection, superior judgment, and the advice and sympathy which Mrs Herbert's position rendered it impossible to give; and with such a friend at hand, there would be comparatively little to fear for Emily's comfort.
Of Mrs Walton's willingness to cultivate the acquaintance, Mrs Herbert had no doubt. It seemed impossible, indeed, that any one could look at Emily Morton without feeling the deepest interest in her; yet the charm was not that of mere personal beauty; many might have criticised the colour of her hair and eyes, and found fault with her pale, transparent complexion, but none could be insensible to the simple grace of her manner, the musical sweetness of her voice, and, above all, the calm, soft, expression of countenance, which was but the outward sign of that "meek and quiet spirit," which, the Bible says, "is in the sight of God of great price." Without Mrs Herbert's recommendation Emily would have been a welcome visitor at the rectory; but with it, Mrs Walton's feelings were so much excited in her favour, that even Amy was quite satisfied as to her being properly appreciated, though she still longed that her mamma could know her more intimately.
But Miss Morton was not Amy's only object of compassion at the Hall. As Christmas approached, Dora's spirits evidently sank; she became more silent and abstracted, took little interest in what was passing, and, if any remark was made upon her low spirits, either roused herself to a forced gaiety, or shut herself up in her own room, and remained there for a considerable time. Amy longed to ask what was the matter, but she did not dare; and they now met so seldom, that the hope of discovering it seemed vain. It was therefore a cause of satisfaction to her, independent of her own enjoyment, to hear that it was Mr Harrington's wish, that the week before and the week after Christmas should be spent by her mamma and herself at Emmerton, as she was certain the arrangement would give pleasure to Emily Morton, and thought it possible that her mamma might be some comfort to her cousin. Dora was the first to give her the intelligence; but although she declared it would be very nice to have Amy staying there, and expressed a hope that her aunt would be comfortable, she did not really seem to care much about it.
"It will not be gay as it used to be at Wayland," she said; "there we always had the house full of people, but now there are only a few coming, whom I know nothing about. I believe we are to have some boys and two or three girls, but we have scarcely ever seen them. Two of the boys are the young Dornfords, and, besides, there will be the Miss Stanleys, and Mary Warner, and the little Danvers; but I shall hate it, for I don't know what we shall do with them."
"Frank will amuse Mr Dornford's boys," said Amy, who knew all their names, though she had never been accustomed to visit in the neighbourhood.
"Yes! but Frank is not used to it."