“And eh, isn’t it grand that his birthday’s come before the Captain gangs away? He’ll, maybe, be back,” said Lizzie, peering into my face with a sidelong look, “before another year.”
“Hush!” said I, hastily; “but you must remember, Lizzie, to be particularly nice and tidy, and to look as if you were twenty, at least, when we go to the Park.”
Here Lizzie drew herself up a little. “I’ve never been among a housefu’ o’ servants,” said Lizzie, “that’s true—but I’ve been wi’ a leddy, and that suld learn folk manners better nor a’ the flunkeys in the world. For Menico says, as well as I can understand him, that there’s twa men-servants, and as mony maids as would fill a house. Eh, mem, wouldn’t it be a great vexation to see a wheen idle folk aye in the road? Menico’s no like a common man; there’s no an article he canna do; but as for just flunkeys to hand the plates and do about a house—eh, if it was me, I would think they werena men.”
“But Miss Mortimer’s man is not a flunkey; it was he who came with us in the omnibus,” said I.
“Yon gentleman?” said Lizzie, in great dismay. “I thought he was a minister; and eh, to think of him puttin’ on fires and waitin’ at the table! I would far sooner be a woman mysel’.”
“And have you any objection to be a woman apart from that?” said I. “I did not think you had been so ambitious, Lizzie. What would you do if you were a man?”
Lizzie’s colour rose, and her work fell from her hand. “I would gang to the wars with the Captain,” cried the girl, “I would aye make a spring in before him where danger was. I would send word every day how he did, and what he was doing. I would stand by our ain flag if they hacked me in pieces. I wouldna let the Hielanders stay still, no a moment!—I would dash them down on the enemy wi’ a’ their bayonets, and cry ‘Scotland and the Queen!’ and if we were killed, wha’s heeding!—it would be worth a man’s while to die!”
This outburst was more than I could bear. I forgot to think it was only Lizzie, a woman and a child, that spoke. I put my hands over my eyes to shut out the prospect she brought before me, but only saw the picture all the clearer, as my hand, with all its warm pulses beating, shut out the daylight. I could see Harry rushing before them with his sword drawn. I could hear his voice pealing out over their heads; I could see the smoke close over him and swallow him up. Ah, heaven!—pictures and stories are made out of such scenes. This creature by my side had flamed up into exulting enthusiasm at the thought. How many hearts attended those charging regiments, breaking against each other, heart upon heart! It came to my heart to wonder, suddenly, whether there might not be some young Russian woman, like me, imagining that fight. Her husband and my Harry might meet under those dreadful flags,—she and I, would not we meet, too, in our agony? I held out my arms to her with a cry of anguish—we were sisters, though they were foes.
When I looked up Lizzie was crying bitterly, partly with her own excitement, partly, because she saw how cruel her suggestion had been to me. She did not mean it so, poor child. Baby sat playing all the time among his cushions, crowing to himself over the bright-coloured ball he had found under his heap of toys. I thought to myself he would laugh all the same whatever happened, and wondered how I should bear to hear him. But that was enough, that was too much. I stopped myself, as best I could, from going on any further. I got some linen that had to be cut out, and rose up to do it;—it was very delicate work. If I were not very careful, a snip of the scissors, too much or too little, might spoil all the stuff; for Harry was very fastidious, you know, about all his things, like most young men. It took some trouble to steady my hand enough—but I did manage it. I wonder what the Russian woman did, to calm her agitation down.
Lizzie recovered very hastily when she saw what I was doing. She picked up her work, and sewed for a long time so silently and swiftly, that the snip of my scissors and the movement of her arm, as she drew through her needle, were the only sounds, except those which baby made, to be heard in the room. At last she took courage to address me with great humility, asking only if it was “the day after the morn” that we were going to the Park?