The third of December had been fixed for the day of examination, and the children at Hazel Grove were so industrious that some days before that, both the presents and the studies were completed—except the bracelet, which went on very slowly indeed—but which Grace assured Clara should be ready in time. For the last few days, when the girls were out of school, time seemed to pass as slowly with them as it did with me on the morning I sat with Madame L'Estrange expecting Cecille. Now, as then, however, it did pass.
The first of December had been a stormy day, but the next morning was as clear and bright as if no cloud had ever been seen. But it was so cold that even the children preferred gathering around the fire to running out, and for me, I could scarcely persuade myself to look out. Poor Dr. Willis! how he shivered, and how cold even his horse looked, as he drove up to the gate at Hazel Grove, where he had been sent for, to visit a servant who was sick. He came in, rubbing his hands, and declaring it was the coldest day he had felt this year. "Ah! young ladies," said he, "you none of you know the comfort of this warm fire as I do. You must ride three miles facing this northwest wind before you can really enjoy it. But even that," he added a moment after, "is better than to sit still in the house with little or no fire as some poor people must do. By the by," he continued, turning to Mrs. Wilmot, "I stopped to see Cecille and her grandmother on my way here, and very glad I was to see them enjoying a blazing fire."
"I have been thinking of them this morning, and fearing that they would not be prepared for this suddenly severe cold," said Mrs. Wilmot. "How do they get their fuel?"
"It was wanting to know that which made me call this morning. Poverty certainly sharpens the wit, for that little child"—Cecille was so small that everybody thought of her as a little child—"manages as well as any man could do. The widow Daly supplies them with fuel for a small additional charge to her month's rent. The old lady needs a warm fire, for her dress is not thick enough—she ought to have flannel."
"And has she not?"
"No—I asked Cecille about it and she colored up and looked as much distressed, poor child, as if it had been her fault that her grandmother was without it. She shall have it, she says, in a few days, as soon as she gets some money that she is expecting. I offered to lend her some till then, but her grandmother had forbidden her borrowing."
"In which I think she is very wise," said Mrs. Wilmot, "but I wish whoever owes her money, knew how much she needs it just now; they might pay her, even if it be a little before the time. No one I hope would be so cruelly unjust as to keep her out of her little earnings one day after they were due."
I could not see Clara's face as I tried to do at this time, for she was looking out of the windows, but Grace colored as violently and looked as confused as if she had been guilty of what her mother thought so wrong. Her confusion attracted Mrs. Wilmot's attention. "Grace," said she, "you do not owe Cecille any thing I hope."
"No, mamma, I paid her the last week."
Mrs. Wilmot turned to speak to Clara, but she had left the room. Dr. Willis, having warmed himself, now asked to see his patient. This withdrew Mrs. Wilmot's attention from Cecille, and she probably did not again think of what had passed,—at least she asked no more questions about it. She left the parlor with Dr. Willis, and soon after I rose to go to my room. In going there I had to pass through the library. There were heavy curtains to the windows of this room, and as I entered, I heard sobs which seemed to come from behind one of these curtains, and then Grace, who had left the parlor a little before me, saying, "Do not cry so, Clara, pray do not cry so. Let us carry Cecille what money we have—that will be some help, you know, and your father will be here this evening and give you the rest."