Frederica would have liked him too, if it had not come into her mind that he was taking all this pains for some other reason than the mere wish to be agreeable. And the same thought came into the mind of her mother. Mrs Vane had some unpleasant remembrances of him, in the days when she had known him better than she did now, and his visits did not give her unmingled satisfaction. But they did not speak to one another about him for a long time. They enjoyed Selina’s pleasure, and the pleasure of the little boys, who shared his attention, and went with him on expeditions of various kinds. They had a very quiet time till Tessie came home for the holidays. Frederica was not long in throwing off all invalid habits, and growing well and strong again, but she was quieter and graver than she used to be before her illness, and the summer did not, even after Tessie’s returning, promise to be so merry or so idle as the last had been.
Chapter Twelve.
Mr Vane’s first letter brought an account of the wedding, and of the gaieties attending it, and his next told them that he had made up his mind to pass the summer on the Continent, returning to spend a month in England in the autumn, before he went home. They heard afterwards from Paris, and then from Rome, but for a time nothing more was said about Frederica’s going to England.
As for Frederica, she said less than she used to do about being “grown up” and “sensible,” but she was more thoughtful and quiet than she had ever been before; and, with the advice and assistance of Miss Robina, laid out for herself a regular course of reading, which she pursued with praiseworthy diligence, considering all things. The reading of the Bible with her mother and Selina was commenced again, and nothing was permitted to interfere with it. She began also to take her little brothers regularly to church, and to listen and try to understand all that she heard there. She did not get discouraged, though there was not much to interest or to instruct in the sermons she often heard.
There was little hope of a happy summer to them, as the days went on. The heat which last year seemed to bring healing to Mrs Vane, brought this year weakness and nervous prostration painful to see. And something even worse than these came with them, to make the days and nights terrible to her—the fear of death,—death, which she knew to be drawing near. It had come to her in former illnesses, but never as it came now.
Mr Jerome. St. Cyr never spoke many words to her in private, but they had been strong words that she could not forget, about her godless marriage and her godless life, which had brought on her, he said, the double curse of ill-health and neglect, and which must end in still deeper misery. She could not forget them, and they woke terrible fears for the future. She told her fears to her children, hoping that they might chase them away as they had chased so many troubles of hers in past years, with playful or loving words, but they knew not what to say, for they too were afraid.
“God is good, and Christ died for us,” repeated Selina many times. “Surely that is enough, mama.”
They read the Testament daily to her still, and Frederica searched it carefully for her sake, bringing to her such sweet words as these: