LITMIR.BIZ

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and rocked him in her arms, and fondled him, and told stories or sung his lullaby with nightly tenderness, till the last sobs had quivered into the smooth heavings of sleep.

      Might only sea air and exercise act as a soporific!  That was a better chance than the new promise which Honora was vexed to find nurse holding out to poor little Owen, that if he would be a good boy, he was going to papa.  She was puzzled how to act towards a person not exactly under her authority, but she took courage to speak about these false promises, and found the remonstrance received in good part; indeed nurse used to talk at much length of the children in a manner that implied great affection for them, coupled with a sense that it would be an excellent thing for them to be in such judicious hands.  Honor always came away from nurse in good humour with herself.

      The locality she had chosen was a sheltered village on the north coast of Somerset, just where Exmoor began to give grandeur to the outline in the rear, and in front the Welsh hills wore different tints of purple or gray, according to the promise of weather, Lundy Isle and the two lesser ones serving as the most prominent objects, as they rose from—Well, well! Honor counted herself as a Somersetshire woman, and could not brook hearing much about the hue of the Bristol Channel.  At any rate, just here it had been so kind as to wash up a small strip of pure white sand, fit for any amount of digging for her children; and though Sandbeach was watering-place enough to have the lodging-houses, butchers and bakers, so indispensable to the London mind, it was not so much in vogue as to be overrun by fine ladies, spoiling the children by admiring their beauty.  So said Miss Charlecote in her prudence—but was not she just as jealous as nurse that people should turn round a second time to look at those lovely little faces?

      That was a very happy charge to her and her good old governess, with some drawbacks, indeed, but not such as to distress her over much.  The chief was at first Owen’s nightly sorrows, his daily idleness over lessons, Lucilla’s pride, and the exceeding daintiness of both children, which made their meals a constant vexation and trouble.  But what was this compared with the charm of their dependence on her, and of hearing that newly-invented pet name, ‘Sweet Honey,’ invoked in every little concern that touched them?

      It was little Owen’s name for her.  He was her special favourite—there was no concealing it.  Lucilla did not need her as much, and was of a vigorous, independent nature, that would stand alone to the utmost.  Owen gave his affection spontaneously; if Lucilla’s was won, it must be at unawares.  She was living in and for her absent father now, and had nothing to spare for any one else, or if she had, Miss Wells, who had the less claim on her was preferred to Cousin Honor.  ‘Father’ was almost her religion; though well taught, and unusually forward in religious knowledge, as far as Honora dared to augur, no motive save her love for him had a substantive existence, as touching her feelings or ruling her actions.  For him she said her prayers and learnt her hymns; for him she consented to learn to hem handkerchiefs; for him were those crooked letters for ever being written; nay, at the thought of his displeasure alone could her tears be made to flow when she was naughty; and for him she endeavoured to be less fanciful at dinner, as soon as her mind had grasped the perception that her not eating what was set before her might really hinder him from always having her with him.  She was fairly manageable, with very high spirits, and not at all a silly or helpless child; but though she obeyed Miss Charlecote, it was only as obeying her father through her, and his constant letters kept up the strong influence.  In her most gracious moods, she was always telling her little brother histories of what they should do when they got home to father and Mr. Prendergast; but to Owen, absence made a much greater difference.  Though he still cried at night, his ‘Sweet Honey’ was what he wanted, and with her caressing him, he only dreaded her leaving him.  He lavished his pretty endearments upon her, and missed no one when he held her hand or sat in her lap, stroking her curls, and exchanging a good deal of fondling.  He liked his hymns, and enjoyed Scripture stories, making remarks that caused her to reverence him; and though backward, idle, and sometimes very passionate, his was exactly the legitimate character for a child, such as she could deal with and love.  She was as complete a slave to the two little ones as their father could have been; all her habits were made to conform to their welfare and pleasure, and very happy she was, but the discipline was more decided than they had been used to; there were habits to be formed, and others to be broken, and she was not weak enough not to act up to her duty in this respect, even though her heart was winding round that sunny-faced boy as fast as it had ever clung to his father.  The new Owen Sandbrook, with his innocent earnestness, and the spiritual light in his eyes, should fulfil all her dreams!

      Christmas had passed; Mr. Sandbrook had begun to write to his children about seeing them soon; Lucilla’s slow hemming was stimulated by the hope of soon making her present; and Honora was marvelling at her own selfishness in dreading the moment when the little ones would be no longer hers; when a hurried note of preparation came from Captain Charteris.  A slight imprudence had renewed all the mischief, and his patient was lying speechless under a violent attack of inflammation.  Another letter, and all was over.

      A shock indeed! but in Honora’s eyes, Owen Sandbrook had become chiefly the children’s father, and their future was what concerned her most.  How should she bear to part with his darlings for ever, and to know them brought up in the way that was not good, and which their father dreaded, and when their orphanhood made her doubly tender over them?

      To little Owen it was chiefly that papa was gone ‘up there’ whither all his hymns and allegories pointed, and at his age, all that he did not actually see was much on a par; the hope of meeting had been too distant for the extinction of it to affect him very nearly, and he only understood enough to prompt the prettiest and most touching sayings, wondering about the doings of papa, mamma, and little baby among the angels, with as much reality as he had formerly talked of papa among the French.

      Lucilla heard with more comprehension, but her gay temper seemed to revolt against having sorrow forced on her.  She would not listen and would not think; her spirits seemed higher than ever, and Honora almost concluded that either she did not feel at all, or that the moment of separation had exhausted all.  Her character made Honora especially regret her destiny; it was one only too congenial to the weeds that were more likely to be implanted, than plucked up, at Castle Blanch.  Captain Charteris had written to say that he, and probably his brother, should come to Sandbeach to relieve Miss Charlecote from the care of the children, and she prized each day while she still had those dear little voices about the house.

      ‘Sweet Honey,’ said Lucilla, who had been standing by the window, apparently watching the rain, ‘do Uncle Charteris and Uncle Kit want us to go away from you?’

      ‘I am very much afraid they do, my dear.’

      ‘Nurse said, if you would ask them, we might stay,’ said Lucilla, tracing the course of a drop with her finger.

      ‘If asking would do any good, my dear,’ sighed Honor; ‘but I don’t think nurse knows.  You see, you belong to your uncles now.’

      ‘I won’t belong to Uncle Charteris!’ cried Lucilla, passionately.  ‘I won’t go to Castle Blanch!  They were all cross to me; Ratia teased me, and father said it was all their fault I was naughty, and he would never take me there again!  Don’t let Uncle Kit go and take me there!’ and she clung to her friend, as if the recollection of Uncle Kit’s victory by main force hung about her still.

      ‘I won’t, I won’t, my child, if I can help it; but it will all be as your dear father may have fixed it, and whatever he wishes I know that his little girl will do.’

      Many a dim hope did Honora revolve, and more than ever did she feel as if a piece of her heart would be taken away, for the orphans fastened themselves upon her, and little Owen stroked her face, and said naughty Uncle Kit should not take them away.  She found from the children and nurse that about a year ago, just after the loss of the baby, there had been a most unsuccessful visit at Castle Blanch; father and little ones had been equally miserable there in the separation of the large establishment, and Lucilla had been domineeringly petted by her youngest cousin, Horatia, who chose to regard her as a baby, and coerced her by bodily force, such as was intolerable to so high-spirited a child, who was a little woman at home.  She had resisted, and fallen into dire disgrace, and it was almost with horror that she regarded the place and the cousinhood. 

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