Mattie sat and gazed at him in a sort of ecstasy; but she did not venture to ask him to read it to her. How nice he was to-night, and how handsome he looked! there never was such a brother as Archie. But suddenly, as though he was conscious of being watched, he sat down by the table, and shaded his face with his hand.
No, Mattie, was right in her surmise: he would not have cared to show that letter to any one.
The first sheet was all about Isabel. “Dear little Isabel has just left me,” wrote Grace. “The child looks so pretty in her new happiness, you would hardly know her. She has just been showing me the magnificent hoop of diamonds Ellis has given her. She says we must all call him Ellis now. ‘Chacun a son gout:’ Poor Ellis is not very brilliant, certainly: I remember we used to call him clownish and uncultivated. But he has a good heart, and he is really very fond of Isabel; and as she is satisfied, I suppose we need not doubt the wisdom of her choice. Mother is radiant, and makes so much of the little bride-elect that she declares her head is quite turned. The house is quite topsy-turvy with the excitement of this first wedding in the family. Isabel is very young to be married, and I tell mother six weeks is far too short for an engagement; but it seems Ellis will not listen to reason, and he has talked mother over. Perhaps I am rather fastidious, but, if I were Isabel, I should hate to receive my trousseau from my lover; and yet Ellis wants his mother to get everything for his fiancee. I believe there is to be a sort of compromise, and Mrs. Burton is to select heaps of pretty things,—dresses and mantles and Paris bonnets. They 187 are rolling in riches. Ellis has taken a large house in Sloane Square, and his father has bought him a landau and a splendid pair of horses; everything—furniture, plate and ornaments—is to be as massive and expensive as possible. If I were Isabel I should feel smothered by all these grand things but the little lady takes it all quite coolly.
“When I get a moment to myself I sit down and say, ‘In six weeks I shall see Archie!’ Oh, my darling! this is almost too good news to be true! Only six weeks, and then I shall really see you! Now do you know, I am longing for a good clearing-up talk? for your letters lately have not satisfied me at all. Perhaps I am growing fanciful, but I cannot help feeling as though something has come between us. The current of sympathy seems turned aside, somehow. No, do not laugh, or put me off with a jest, for I am really in earnest; and but for fear of your scolding me I should own to being just a little unhappy. Forgive me, Archie, if I vex you; but there is something, I am thoroughly convinced of that. You have some new interest or worry that you are keeping from me. Is this quite in accordance with our old compact, dear? Who are these Challoners Mattie mentions in her letters? She told me a strange rigmarole about them the other day,—that they were young ladies who had turned dressmakers. What an eccentric idea! They must be very odd young ladies, I should think, to emancipate themselves so completely from all conventionalities. I wish they had not established themselves at Hadleigh and so near the vicarage. Mattie says you are so kind to them. Oh, Archie! dear brother! do be careful! I do not half like the idea of these girls; they sound rash and designing, and you are so chivalrous in your notions. Why not let Mattie be kind to them instead of you? In a parish like Hadleigh you need to be careful. Mother is calling me, so I will just close this with my fondest love.
“Grace.”
Archie threw down the letter with a frown. For the first time he was annoyed with Grace.
Nan and her sisters rash and designing! “Odd young ladies”! She was sorry they had established themselves at Hadleigh! It was really too bad of Grace to condemn them in this fashion. But of course it must be Mattie’s fault: she had written a pack of nonsense, exaggerating things as much as possible.
Poor Mattie would have had to bear the brunt of his wrath as usual, only, as he turned to her with the frown black on his forehead, his eyes caught sight of her dress. Hitherto the room had been very dimly lighted; but now, as he looked at her in the soft lamplight, his anger vanished in amazement.
“Why, Mattie, what have you done to yourself? We are not expecting company this evening: it is nearly ten o’clock.”
Mattie blushed and laughed, and then she actually bridled with pleasure: 188