"I was so carefully nursed, I did not require other attention;" she continued. "I should have regretted it, if your summer's enjoyment had been interrupted needlessly. Dr. Hall, and Mr. and Mrs. Grant were untiring in their kindness; and Rachel here, ought to have a diploma to practice medicine."
It was a maxim with Mr. Read, that for every mischance, blame must rest somewhere; and Ida, having exculpated him, he could not do less than return the compliment, by pitching it back upon her.
"I do not presume to lecture you, Miss Ross; but you will admit that this freak of yours was one of unsurpassed imprudence. You left my roof under the protection of those, whom I considered fit guardians for a young lady." Charley made a movement to speak; but Ida's imploring glance restrained him. "I hear nothing of you for a long time; and you write, at last, from an uninhabited country-house, begging permission to take up your abode there. I refuse the preposterous request, and you are brought home reduced and weakened by a severe illness, of which I have not been informed. I cannot be responsible for what the world will say to all this, Miss Ross!"
The rack could not have silenced Charley now. "I will tell you what the world's opinion is, sir; and hold you responsible for your own words. 'The world' has said, in my hearing, that the guardian, who loses sight of a ward—a member of his family—for six months, without being apprised of, or inquiring into her locality and welfare, is unworthy of his trust. And if I describe his reception of an invalid, who might have perished through neglect, for all he knew or cared—'the world,' sir, will declare indignantly, that he is a disgrace to society and mankind! I have nothing more to say at present. If you take exception to my liberty of speech, you can call on me, and relieve your mind. Miss Ida, let me recommend to you to retire; Mr. Read will finish his lecture to me—good afternoon, Miss Read. Sir, I have the honor to bid you good-day!"
Josephine burst forth with a torrent of invective: which Ida did not stay to hear; nor did she see either of them again for two days. She was not well enough to go below; and they avoided her chamber.
Mrs. Dana called that evening. Ida was preparing for bed; and she supplanted Rachel as maid and nurse. Her softest, most nimble of hands undressed the tired, dispirited girl; smoothed the pillows; and gave her a composing draught; and with her kiss warm upon her lips, her pitying eyes watching over her, and a prayer of thankfulness at her heart, Ida fell asleep.
She learned to expect a daily visit from this dear friend; and rarely looked in vain. At her third coming she brought a note from Charley. "He was happy to state;" he said; "that the skirmish which had excited her uneasiness, had arrived at a bloodless issue. Mr. Read and himself had had an interview; he had apologised for using language to him, in his own house, which he considered himself justifiable in employing anywhere else; and Mr. Read excused his harshness to her, by representing the excitement of surprise and alarm, under which he was laboring at the time. It was agreed the matter should stop there—that is;" wrote Charley; "that his bugbear, the world, shall not get hold of it."
Josephine had received her orders; for she carried her work into Ida's chamber, that day, and sat one hour, to a minute, never opening her lips, save in monosyllables to the questions Ida forced herself to ask. Abandoning seclusion so soon as she had sufficient strength, the latter joined the family at meals, and remained longer in their society than she was wont to do formerly; and if her hope of eventually conquering their dislike did not increase, her meekness and patience did. She had occasion for it all. Josephine was quick to discover that she was happier in her affliction and debility, than she was in health and prosperity; and when the truth came to light, her natural malignity to the cause, and her hatred of its humble professor triumphed in the fiendish anticipation of how she could, by deriding one, wound the other. She would have descried soil upon an angel's robe. Ida was a young Christian, contending with the manifold disadvantages of temper, habit and irreligious associates; and her wily assailant was not passive long for lack of weapons and opportunity for her warfare. Any symptom of a convalescent's irritability; the utterance of a taste or opinion, which did not tally with her standard of consistency, was marked and laid by for use; and no complaisance or concession on Ida's part, moved her purpose. Mr. Read paid his pew-rent, went to church once every fine Sunday, and had a pleasant impression that by so doing, he was "keeping along;" paying interest as it were, upon the debt, sanguine that when the distant pay-day arrived, he would be able, by one prodigious effort, to discharge the principal. He "hated cant, because it was silly and useless" and if he did not chime in his daughter's slurs upon religion, and the conduct of Christians, he never rebuked her by word or sign. Watchfully, prayerfully, Ida strove to keep her feet in the path, and by no misstep or fall, to cast obloquy upon the name she loved.
Anna Talbot, a friendly, good-natured girl—her brother's superior in sense and feeling, was a near neighbor; and she ran in directly after breakfast one morning, full of a ball to which she was invited. Josephine had a ticket also, and was wishing for her—she must consult her about her dress.
"Ma has bought me a lovely white silk," said Anna. "I am to wear sprigged illusion over it—but oh! I was so disappointed! I wanted silver-sprigged, you know, like that Miss What's-her-name, from Philadelphia, wore to Mrs. Porter's party—but although I ransacked every store in the city, I could not find a piece. What will you get, Josey?"