This regular, unbroken, undisturbed life in the old Manor House was very pleasant for a little time. It was just what I needed, after all I had gone through lately. But I fancied that I should soon grow rather tired of it. I fancied that I should long for the doorbell to ring, and an interruption to come in my clockwork existence. I should long for a little of the stir and bustle and motion of the world outside, to creep into the monotony and unchangeableness of the life within.
Small matters, even the most insignificant trifles, became great events to the sisters. If one of the cows or horses took cold, or if a tree was blown down in the garden, or if the rooks built a new nest in the plantation, it was the topic of conversation for days.
I was a little troubled as I looked forward and pictured to myself the kind of training which Maggie would have in such a home. I was afraid it would be rather relaxing to her mind and energies, so that if she came out of it into the coldness and roughness of the outside world she would feel the difference very strongly, and would not be hardy enough to stand it.
I was not afraid that Maggie would be dull here, for she was a quiet child, and fond of playing alone, and making her own amusements and pleasures; and there was a small farm close by, kept by old John and his wife, which was Maggie's constant resort, and here, amongst the chickens, and ducks, and lambs, and calves, and pigeons, she found plenty to interest her, and plenty of recreation and amusement. The aunts were exceedingly kind to her, and I felt sure they would train and teach her to the best of their ability.
But what I was afraid of was, that Maggie's mind would got a little cramped by the smallness of the sphere in which she was living, and that she would thus become somewhat selfish and self-indulgent. Yet all these fears I carried one by one to my Lord, as they arose; and I felt unspeakable comfort and relief in placing my little sister under His Almighty care.
Miss Jane was my favourite amongst the sisters. There was something in her face which made me trust her at once, and her good common sense and real heartfelt sympathy could always be relied upon. I found myself, almost before I was aware, giving her a history of our happy home-life, and telling her many of my anxieties and troubles, as I thought of the future. She made me promise that whenever I had a holiday given me I would come to the Manor House, and that I would remember that it would never be anything but a very great pleasure to them all to have me there.
On Sunday we all went to the village church together. A new clergyman had just been appointed, and the sisters were hardly in a frame of mind to enjoy the services, for they had not ceased mourning over the late rector, who had been there for forty years, and who had been obliged to resign on account of ill-health. But as I had no recollections of the previous minister, and, therefore, no painful feelings on seeing the new minister enter Mr. Baker's pulpit, preach from Mr. Baker's Bible, and take possession of Mr. Baker's congregation, the service was a real delight to me.
The young clergyman was plain in appearance, but he had a broad, high, thoughtful forehead, and he was evidently thoroughly in earnest.
The sermon went to my heart; it was on this text:
"To be spiritually minded is life and peace."