She looked away into the vacant air, her eyes absorbed with fairy visions; not of ease or wealth, or rank—those things so far away and unknown in which she saw no charm; but the loud heart beat high in her breast, and the colour went and came on her cheek, like the rapid breath which seemed to sway it; the hill to climb, the dangers to conquer!
With a sudden start she broke the spell of her musing:
“He’ll hae misfortunes great and sma’,
But aye a heart aboon them a’,”
she said half aloud, and tears bright and pleasant were in her eyes.
This was the lot which she saw rising in its unknown glory before her, the undiscovered country full of grand perils and deliverances—the storms to be borne, the griefs, the joys—the labours. The bright calm which suited her friend was not made for her; it was she who was going to the wars.
“And am I to have a lilac satin frock, Mamma?” demanded Hope Oswald.
Mrs Oswald had just returned from the promised visit which completed the reconciliation. There was something painful in it, and in the renewal of the old friendship which had been so long and forcibly restrained. Few people, even though they are happy people, can look back upon the past without sadness, and grave thoughts were in the mind of the banker’s gentle wife.
“You will get whatever is proper, Hope, my dear,” said Mrs Oswald.
But Hope was very far from satisfied. “Whatever was proper” might not include the lilac satin frock, on which Hope had set her heart; so she left her mother, who was singularly silent and preöccupied, to discourse to the banker upon the marriage of Mrs Fendie’s eldest daughter, the Reverend Mrs Heavileigh, and the dress in which Adelaide made her public appearance as bridesmaid on that solemn occasion. Mr Oswald was more propitious than his wife.
“You shall have your lilac satin frock, Hope,” said the banker, joyously rubbing his hands, “and anything else you like, for there’s not a Fendie of them all like either of you. You shall have your frock; and do you want anything else, Hope?”