The Chevalier's daughter

by Lucy Ellen Guernsey

"I cannot see him now. Perhaps I may after a time, but at present it is impossible. Tell him that I agree to all you have said, but I cannot see him."

"I do not myself think it best," said my mother. "Let matters rest for the present."

So Andrew went away and I did not see him.

Looking back at this time, I must say I think I behaved pretty well. I was as nearly broken-hearted as any poor girl ever was, but I strove against my sorrow, and tried in every way to keep myself occupied that I need not have time to brood. I had very bitter thoughts of Andrew, of his family, and even of Providence itself, but I did strive against them. I went to my school, and to Margaret's also twice in the week, for she could not quite manage the knitting, though she was improving. I read to poor Lois, and to an old blind sailor who lived in one of the cottages, and in every way strove to keep my thoughts occupied. My mother was all judicious kindness, knowing just when to help and when to let me alone; but with all my efforts and helps, I passed many sad hours.

I used to go constantly to church, and found comfort therein; but oh, how I wished for one of our old pastors, to whom I might open any heart! Mr. Dobson made a conscience of having daily prayers in the church, and of reading one sermon of a Sunday; but aside from that, he gave no more heed to his parish than he did to—the moon, I was going to say; but indeed he took much more interest in the moon than he did in his next door neighbors. He was wrapped up in his studies—chemistry, or rather alchemy, as I fancy, astronomy, and physics. He was looked upon with the greatest awe by the country people, as one who had powers over the unseen world, and I doubt not he himself fully believed in these powers.

Before the wedding we had another guest—none other than our cousin Lord Stanton, from Stanton Court, in Devonshire. We had the first news of his approach from a riding servant whom he sent on before him. My mother, of course, at once sent up word to the great house, and presently we were surprised by a visit from my aunt, who came down to hear further particulars, and to ask advice as to how she should receive the great man. She came in and greeted any mother and me just as if nothing had happened, for she was always one of those people who forget their own hard words as soon as they are spoken, and wonder that any one else should remember them.

"Well, and so my lord is really going to honor us with a visit," said she, when she had praised my work and admired the cosiness of the house. "'Tis an honor, no doubt, but one I would dispense with just now that I have so much on my hands."

"I believe my lord intends to lodge here," said my mother. "I gathered as much from his letter."

"Here!" said my aunt, staring, as was her way. "Why, how will you put him up or entertain him or his retinue?"

"As to putting him up, we have plenty of spare chambers, and, thanks to your kindness, abundance of linen and the like. As to entertainment, he will be content, I dare say, to fare as we do. As to his retinue, he has with him but two men servants, who will lodge in the cottage."