"What could I do? I was alone, and tired of doing nothing."
"You have recollected, I hope, to give water to your birds."
"Oh! gracious! I have never given them any but once. Poor creatures! they must be very thirsty. But, Caroline, do not scold me, it is not my fault. Every morning, mamma used to ask me if I had taken water and seeds to my birds, leaves to my rabbits, and grass to my fawn; and now, who is there to think of all these things?"
"I will. Let us go to your aviary, and I will talk to you by the way."
Caroline then explained to her brother all her plans concerning him. She told him that he should work with her, and that she would amuse him, and take care of all his things; in a word, that she would, as far as possible, supply the place of a mother to him. She had his books brought into her sitting-room, and such of his playthings as he had been accustomed to keep in his mother's apartment; she gave him a shelf in her library, and the lower part of a closet, and established his little table by the window, as he wished. At first, she intended to place it elsewhere, for this was her own favourite place; but she recollected that last year, when she had remarked that her mamma was happy in being able to enjoy, while sitting at table, the prospect over the valley, her mother had yielded to her the place she coveted. "I cannot be so good as mamma," she thought, "unless I do as she did, so I will remove my table from the window."
Such were the feelings and views with which Caroline undertook the reformation of her character, and she begun the task with the blind ardour so natural to youth: that happy privilege bestowed by Providence, to remove all hesitation from their resolutions, and leave nothing doubtful but the execution. But this first strong and happy impulse does not always last; when the sentiment which gave it birth ceases to be exclusive, things which had been forgotten reappear, the realities of life and the peculiarities of character resume their claims, and what we still desire above all things is, nevertheless, not our sole object. This was precisely the case with Caroline. For a considerable time her heart was so full of the idea of her great loss, of the remembrance of her faults, of her affection for her father, and of the new pleasure of exerting herself for the sake of others, that she could not form a thought exclusively for herself, and would have been indignant had she been desired to do so; but when, after the lapse of several months, life had returned to its uniform course, when business was again attended to, and all the family had resumed their usual habits, she perceived how completely her own had been overturned. The time which she formerly employed, according to her fancy, was no longer her own; a great part of it was absorbed by her little brother, and her pursuits were also frequently interrupted by her father. As long as he had a friend constantly at hand, he might be always disposed to accommodate himself to the arrangements of his daughter, but now that this friend was no more, Caroline was required to replace her, and became his property: their positions were changed, and the effect of this was perpetually felt, and the more strikingly in proportion as their first deep affliction subsided by degrees, and M. de Manzay was able to take some interest in the scenes around him, and his daughter to enter into her own employments.
It will readily be believed that, in a young person of sixteen, a change of this nature could not be made easily, or completely carried out from the first. In order to maintain it, Caroline was obliged to exert much self-control, and she often failed of success. It would sometimes happen that she kept her brother waiting to repeat his lesson, because she was reading an interesting book, or playing an air that she liked; on other occasions, she would defer the household accounts for several days whilst she was finishing a drawing, or completing a piece of embroidery; and occasionally her father could read so plainly in her countenance that she had no interest in what he proposed, that he would give up his intention, not without a melancholy retrospect of the days when whatever he wished became immediately the earnest object of another. Yet it must also be said that Caroline acknowledged and regretted all her faults, and very often repaired them so promptly and so thoroughly, that they almost became a merit, and led to fresh improvement. Stephen never found her so kind and patient, or her father so affectionately devoted to him, as when she had to reproach herself with some act of impatience or caprice; and, generally speaking, she quickly recovered herself. To give one instance amongst others:—It was several months after the death of Madame de Manzay, and everything had been placed as far as possible on its former footing in the château, and tranquillity and peace, the more valuable in proportion as happiness is wanting, were reestablished in the house, when, one day, M. de Manzay entered his daughter's apartment with a letter in his hand. "Caroline," he said, "would you like Denis to come and live with us for some time?"
"Oh, no, certainly not. I do not want him; he is insufferable."
"But, my dear, his guardian is lately dead, and Denis, as you know, is on bad terms with the wife, so that he cannot remain with her: where can he go, unless he comes to Primini?"
"Let him go where he likes. Why does he make himself detested by every one? Oh! I should not have a moment's peace if he were here; I would rather go away myself than remain with him. Pray, papa, write word at once that you cannot have him."