The spell was broken. The happy visions of heaven, of love, had been displaced for Maria. She lay quite silent, and in the stillness the bells of All Souls’ Church were heard ringing out a joyous peal on the morning air. Meta clapped her hands and lifted her face, radiant now with glee. Moods require not time to change in childhood: now sunshine, now rain. Margery opened the door.
“Do you hear them, ma’am? The bells for Miss Cecil. They’re as joyous as the day. I said she’d have it fine, last night, when I found the wind had changed. I can’t bear to hear wedding-bells ring out on a wet day: the two don’t agree. Eh me! Why, here’s Miss Rose coming in!”
Rose Hastings was walking up the path with a quick step, nodding at Meta as she came along. That young lady slipped off the sofa, and ran out to meet her, and Maria rose up from her sick position, and strove to look her best.
“I have come for Meta,” said Rose, as she entered. “Mamma thinks she would like to see the wedding.—Will you let her come, Maria?”
Maria hesitated. “To the church, do you mean? Suppose she should not be good?”
“I will be good,” said Meta, in a high state of delight at the prospect. “Mamma, I’ll be very good.”
She went with Margery to be dressed. Rose turned to her sister. “Are you pretty well this morning, Maria?”
“Pretty well, Rose. I cannot boast of much strength yet.”
“I wish you would return with me and Meta. Mamma told me to try and bring you. To spend the day with us will be a change, and you need not go near the church.”
“I don’t feel equal to it, Rose. I should not have strength to walk. Tell mamma so, with my dear love.”