She had stuck firmly to her resolve to work for the English composition prize, and she firmly made up her own mind to leave no stone unturned to win it. What affection she, possessed for Miss Russell was not at all of a character to prevent her from thoroughly enjoying taking the prize out of her hands. Her love for Dora had been fed by vanity, and was not at all of a deep or noble character. She was some time carefully choosing the subject of her theme, and at last she resolved to write a brief historical description of the last days of Marie Antoinette. To write properly on this subject she had to read up a great deal, and had to find references in books which were not usually allowed as school-room property. Mrs Willis, however, always allowed the girls who were working for the English composition prize to have access to her rather extensive library, and here Hester was often to be found during play-hours. Two evenings in the week were also taken up in preparation for the coming plays, and as Hester was to take rather an important part in one, and a small character in another, she was obliged to devote herself to getting up her parts during the weekly half-holidays. Thus every moment was busy, and, except at night, she had little time to devote herself to Nan.
Nan slept in a pretty crib in Hester’s room, and each evening the young girl knelt down by her sister’s side, and gazed at her with love which was almost motherly swelling in her breast.
All that was best of Hester was drawn out at these moments; something greater than ambition—something far and away above school triumphs and school jealousies spoke then in her heart of hearts. These moments found her capable of being both sympathising and forgiving; these moments followed out in her daily life might have made Hester almost great. Now was the time, with her eyes full of tears and her lips trembling with emotion, for Annie Forest to have caught a glimpse of the divine in Hester; the hardness, the pride, the haughty spirit were all laid aside, and hers was the true child-heart as she knelt by the sleeping baby. Hester prayed earnestly at these moments, and, in truth, Nan did better for her than any sermon; better for her than even Mrs Willis’s best influences. Nan was as the voice of God to her sister.
Hester, in her very busy life, had no time to notice, however, a very slight and almost imperceptible change in bright little Nan. In the mornings she was in too great a hurry to pay much heed to the little one’s chatter; in the afternoons she had scarcely an instant to devote to her, and when she saw her playing happily with the other children she was quite content, and always supposed that when a spare half-hour did come in her busy life Nan would rush to her with the old ecstasy, and give her the old devotion.
One day, toward the end of a very fine May, the girls were all to go for a picnic to some woods about four miles away. They had looked forward for several days to this relaxation, and were in the highest state of delight and the wildest spirits. After an early dinner they were to drive in several large waggonettes to the place of rendezvous, where they were to be regaled with gypsy-tea, and were to have a few hours in the lovely Woods or Burn Castle, one of the show places of the neighbourhood. Mrs Willis had invited the Misses Bruce to accompany them, and they were all to leave the house punctually at two o’clock. The weather was wonderfully fine and warm, and it was decided that all the children, even Nan, should go.
Perhaps none of the girls looked forward to this day’s pleasure with greater joy than did Hester; she determined to make it a real holiday, and a real time of relaxation. She would forget her English theme; she would cease to worry herself about Marie Antoinette; she would cease to repeat her part in the coming play; and she would devote herself exclusively and determinedly to Nan’s pleasure. She pictured the little one’s raptures; she heard her gay shouts of joy, her ceaseless little rippling chatter, her baby glee, and, above all things, her intense happiness at being with her own Hetty for the greater part of a whole day. Hester would ride her on her shoulder, would race with her; all her usual, companions would be as nothing to her on this occasion, she would give herself up solely to Nan.
As she was dressing that morning she said a word or two to the child about the coming treat.
“We’ll light a fire in the wood, Nan, and hang a kettle over it, and make tea—such good tea; won’t it be nice?”
Nan clapped her hands. “And may I take out my little ummabella (umbrella), case it might wain?” she asked anxiously.
Hester flew to her and kissed her.