Frederica and her Guardians; Or, The Perils of Orphanhood

by Margaret M. Robertson

The meeting had not happened just as their elder brother had desired and planned. He had meant to prepare his sisters for the happy change in Selina, but perhaps it happened just as well. They were left very much to themselves for the rest of the day; and as their way was at such times, they talked in their mother tongue fast and eagerly. That is, Tessie and the little brothers talked, and Selina also, who had much to tell them, though she told it in few words. The beginning and the end of all was her brother Edgar’s kindness to her during the time she had been away.

As to how it all came about—how through the wonderful skill, and unfailing gentle care of her brother’s friend, and of her brother as well, the blessed gift of sight was restored to her, need not be told here. The sweet blue eyes looked just as they had always looked, but there was light in them now. Her face was changed. It was not so peaceful and serener—it could hardly be brighter than it used to be. But it had an expectant look, and its expression varied every moment. Her constant movements towards this and that, in her attempts at a nearer acquaintance with things which she had hitherto only known by touch or by sound, gave her an air of restlessness not at all like Selina, and for a little while Frederica watched her doubtfully. But when Edgar came among them, hushing the eager buzz of talk, and saying gently to Selina that she had seen enough for one day, the old look came back, sweet and serene, and she lay down at his bidding, with closed eyes and a smile on her lips that reassured her sisters. And then Edgar said in response to the brightening of Frederica’s face,—

“Yes, it is a new world to her. But she has had the best things all along—the peace and the joy—and she is not going to lose them because she can see. I think you may let yourself be glad for her.”

“Yes, I am glad! for her,” said Frederica gravely, “very glad, I think; or I shall be glad by-and-by.”

“Are you sure you are glad now?” said Captain Clare to her when a few days had passed, and they had in some measure become accustomed to the knowledge that Selina could see; “because I do not think you always look very glad.”

“I am glad for Selina, I am glad for us all: But then, you see, I do not quite know what I am going to do with myself and my life now,” said she gravely. “I have it all to plan over again, now that Selina will not need me to take care of her.”

“You need not be afraid, I think,” said her friend. “Your work will come to you; and indeed, your sister needs you as much as ever. She does not seem to be able to do without you.”

“She likes to look at me, because I am like mama, she says. She has not forgotten mama all these years since she was a little child. And I am to teach her all I know; and that will not take me long,” added she, laughing. “And besides, she has been learning all the time, though not with her eyes. Oh, yes! I am glad!”

In the midst of their rejoicing Mr St. Cyr came to Eastwood Park; and if Frederica had had her choice of all the pleasant things that might happen to them, she would certainly have chosen this. It was almost like being at home again, and having the old times back. Not but that they were all quite content at Eastwood; but their old friend, who had also been their mother’s friend, was very welcome and dear. They had some things to say to him that it would not have been easy to say to any one else; and his odd ways with them, sometimes merry and sometimes grave, always old-fashioned and friendly, had a wonderful charm for them all, and even for those who were looking on.

Frederica no longer doubted her joy over her sister when she presented her to Mr St. Cyr. Her tears fell, it is true, in a sudden shower, as she said to him, “If mama had only known!” But her tears were soon dry; and in his society, responding to his quaint ways and speeches, she grew more talkative and merry than ever her English friends had seen her before. She was more like the Fred who used to drive “Jack and Jill,” and amuse the children in Miss Robina’s orchard, than like the grave little monitress of her brothers and Tessie, inclined to be careful and troubled about many things.