There was no one to tell Frederica that she was in danger. All her mother’s fears were vague and indistinct. They seemed to her daughter, and even to herself, when she spoke of them, to be nervous fancies, natural enough in her state of illness and seclusion, a natural shrinking from any possible cause of change or pain. And so they both put away such thoughts, and the mother strove to take pleasure in the many costly and beautiful things brought for her approval for the adornment of her daughter.
Even Selina listened happily to her sister’s merry recitals of all she saw and heard and enjoyed, and offered her soft touch to the rich and delicate fabrics, to the laces and flowers and jewels that she wore, without a thought of trouble or danger to the sister whom she loved so well.
But Frederica was in danger all the same. She was in danger of losing that sweet naturalness and girlish simplicity which even to the worldly people with whom she mingled made her chief charm; she was in danger of growing vain and frivolous and foolish, of forgetting all the serious views of life that had so filled her thoughts, of ceasing to strive for, or to value, a knowledge of those truths which were to bring such peace and patience; such blessed hopes to her suffering mother, and such happiness to them all. Nay, she was in danger even of neglecting her mother and her blind sister, of giving up the sweet office so eagerly coveted and claimed, of being their comforter and guardian, and of living to herself and her own selfish enjoyment.
All this has happened to others who have given themselves up to a life of worldly pleasure, and this must have been the end to Frederica, if such a life had continued long.
Chapter Eleven.
In the beginning of March, there came a letter to Mr Vane, announcing the approaching marriage of his second daughter Cecilia, and begging him to be present at the ceremony, which was to take place at the end of April. Something had been said by Mr Vane, every year for the last ten, about going home to England; but sometimes for one reason, and sometimes for another, he had never carried out his design. This announcement and invitation induced him to take the matter into serious consideration this time, and Mrs Brandon’s suggestion that the opportunity would be a good one to take Frederica home for the completion of her education, decided him to make arrangements at once for going. Indeed, he by-and-by convinced himself, and endeavoured to convince others, that it was for Frederica’s sake, and not at all for his own pleasure, that the voyage was to be undertaken, and thus especially was it represented to Mr St. Cyr.
Frederica was not so pained by her father’s sudden determination as she would have been in the autumn. Of course, the thought of school was not quite agreeable to her after the winter she had spent, but there was the voyage, and possibly a gay wedding to come first; and if it had not been for the thought of leaving her mother and Selina, the prospect would not have been disagreeable. And she could not help thinking that they would miss her less than they would have done six months before.
But it did not seem so to them. The thought of losing her was almost more than her mother could bear. But there was nothing to be said: discussion would make no difference to Mr Vane’s decision. There was little time for discussion or preparation. All that Frederica needed, could be got as well in England, her father said, and there was no time to lose.