"He did—but reflect! every phial was smashed, and that is no trifle this far from the city, I take it. Yes—he set the little chap upon his feet, and asked after the integrity of his bones; and when he sobbed, 'I ain't hurt, sir—but de bottles—dey's all broke!' patted him upon the head, and bade him 'stop crying—master isn't angry—you won't run so fast next time,' and let him go. Then, kneeling upon the grass, he unlocked the portable apothecary-shop, and pulled out gallipots and packages, fractured and stained in every imaginable shape and manner—looking seriously perplexed. 'This is an awkward business,' he said, aloud; 'and my stock is so nearly out! but accidents will happen.'"
"And is that all?" said Carry.
"'All!' I have seen men affect forbearance, and talk largely of forgiveness, when they wanted to 'show off,' but he did not know that I was within hearing. Some other principle was at work. I wonder," she said, with a short laugh, "what my esteemed guardian would have said upon the occasion! He punishes a menial more severely for an accident, or thoughtlessness, than for deliberate villany."
"I do not pretend to uphold Mr. Read's doctrines or practice. I am afraid he is thoroughly selfish, and Josephine is too close a copy of him to suit my fancy—but why think or speak of them? Did you not promise to see life through my spectacles awhile? There is a hard look in your eye, and a scorn in your tone, when you refer to them, that repel me. It is so unlike you!"
"So like me, Carry! My character is velvet or fur—stroke it in one direction, and you enhance whatever of beauty or gloss it possesses; reverse the motion, and you encounter rough prickles, and in certain states of the atmosphere, more electricity than is agreeable or safe. I am not changed. The hand of affection is gliding over me now; you may do what you will with me."
"But you are happier than you used to be?"
"I am—happier in you! Do you recollect the stormy November evening when you 'took me in?' Cold, and wet, and shivering as was the body, the heart stood more in need of comfort; and you warmed it—taught me that woman is woman still—brow-beaten, insulted, crushed! The poor, soiled flowerets of love will smile, despite of all—in the face of him, or her whose pitying hand lifts them up. Carry! you do not know what depends upon your fidelity! Have you not read in that most wondrous of books, how the evil spirit returned to the house, which, in his absence, was swept and garnished, and that the latter end of that man was worse than the first?"
"Ida! my own friend! how can you hint such frightful things? I do love you—very dearly? You cannot doubt me."
"Not now. But will the time never come, when other claims will dispossess me of my place? Do not despise me, darling! Do not impute to me the meanness of being envious of your happiness. I rejoice with, and am proud for you—proud of your choice. He is all that a man should be—let me say it—I have never told you so before;—but is it true love expels friendship? You will be as dear to me married as single; why should your affection decrease?"
"It will not!" Could it be the modest Carry who spoke? "Judge for yourself. Arthur and I have loved from childhood. He spoke to me of his hopes two years ago, but father exacted from us a promise that no love but that of brother and sister should be named between us until my school-days were at an end. Yet I knew that I was not a sister to him; and, to me, he was more than the world besides:—and with this sweet consciousness singing its song of hope and blessedness within my heart, I found room for you; and lover and friend were each the dearer for the other's company. You will understand this some day, dear Ida. You are made to be loved—you cannot exist without it, and you will achieve your destiny."