Our young readers must call upon their own imagination as to the other treasures of this valuable tree; for, as they would, no doubt, like to know what sort of New Year's gifts Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton had in store for their children (for Miss Harcourt too, for they never omitted her), we really must not linger round it any longer. Poor Ellen, indeed, had the pain of feeling that her fault and its consequences had prevented the completion of her purse for Percy, and a chain for Edward, and her cheek burned very painfully, when Mr. Howard, after exhausting the tree, exclaimed--

"Nothing from Ellen for Percy and Edward. Young gentlemen, have you been receiving any gifts in secret?--out with them if you have--it is against all law and propriety."

"We shall receive them next week, most potent conjuror, as you ought to have known without inquiring," answered Percy, directly; and bending over Ellen, by whom he chanced to be standing, he said, kindly, "Never mind, Nelly, you will have time to finish them both next week."

"Do not say 'never mind,' my dear boy, though I admire and sympathize in your kind care of your cousin's feelings," said his mother, in the same low tone, as only to be heard by him and Ellen. (Mr. Howard was very quick-sighted, and he took Percy's jest and turned off all farther notice of his words.) "Even such a little thing as this in Ellen's case is pain, and can only be felt as such; we do not lessen it by denying it, my Ellen, do we?"

"I would rather feel it, if it would help me to remember," was Ellen's earnest and humble reply; adding, "but I thank you, dear Percy--you are so kind."

"Not a bit," was his laughing answer. "Why, what in the world is this?"

he added; "I thought the tree was exhausted."

"So it is, but this was hid at its root," replied Mr. Howard, "and though it is directed to Caroline, it is somewhat too heavy for my wand, and must reach her in a more natural way."

"Why, it is my flower, my own beautiful flower, or one exactly like it, at least," exclaimed Caroline, joyfully, as, removing a hollow pyramid of green and white paper, a myrtle was discovered of the same rare kind, and almost in as beautiful flower as the one whose death had caused such increased coldness in her feelings toward Ellen. "How did it come? who could have procured it for me?"

"Ellis sent for it at my request, dear Caroline," answered Ellen. "She said they were to be purchased from the gardener at Powderham, and if it were possible to send any one so far, she would endeavor to get one for me; she told me yesterday she had succeeded, and I thought she gave it you, as I begged her, directly; I had no opportunity to tell you before, but I was so very, very sorry I had hurt your flower."

"Ellis was very wise to put it among the pretty things of this evening, instead of obeying you," said her uncle, kindly; "and I really am glad that your great desire to replace it made her think of sending for it, for though I meant to have given Caroline another, I had so many things on my mind this week that it escaped me; and I know they are so much sought for, Wilson has scarcely ever one on hand."

"Indeed, papa, you were much too kind to think about it at all," said Caroline, very earnestly. "I am afraid, if you knew how very cross and unkind the loss of the other made me, you would have withdrawn your idea of such indulgence. I am very much obliged to you, Ellen," she continued much more cordially than she had yet spoken to her cousin; "I did not deserve it even from you, for I worked myself into such an ill-temper, as almost to believe you did it purposely, and I had no right to think that."

It did indeed bear out its language, that pretty flower, for, with this one coldness removed--though Mrs. Hamilton's trembling heart dared not hope it would be lasting--love now reigned pre-eminent. Every happy feeling increased when in the presents from their parents each recognized something that had been wished for, though they never remembered expressing it. Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton were always united in these New Year's gifts, though tokens of approval or occasional indulgences were often given separately. There were a set of most beautiful engravings for Percy, which for the last three or four months he had been most anxious to possess; but with the recollection of former folly very fresh in his memory, he had actually succeeded in driving them from his mind, and gave them up as unattainable, till he was richer, at least. For Herbert there was a fine edition of the Greek tragedians in their original, as beautiful a work of art, in its "getting up," as Percy called it, as its letter-press, which to Herbert was beyond all price. Edward was almost wild, as his uncle and aunt telling him he was fourteen next March, and might not be with them next New Year's eve, presented him with a treasure coveted beyond all other, a gold watch. (His father's had been given by his mother as a parting gift to Captain Cameron.) Mr. Howard declared that it was much too good for a sailor, and would be lost his first voyage; he had much better hand it over to the Rectory, promising to take every care of it; but looking so mischievous, Edward vowed it should not get near his hand.

For Caroline was a most complete and elegantly fitted-up embroidery-box, which quite charmed her, for it was exactly like, if not more tasteful and complete, than one Annie Grahame had brought from London, and which she had wondered, Caroline could "exist" without. As Mr. and Mrs.

Hamilton found that she could not only comfortably "exist," but much as she admired and had at first so coveted it, as to have a hard battle with discontent, she had never even hinted that it might be useful. As they perceived that her mind was so happily engrossed by the idea of the pleasure her gifts would bestow, as not to cast a thought upon Annie's superior box, they indulged themselves and their child, and were more than repaid by the beaming look of delight with which it was received.

For Emmeline was a parcel almost as large as herself, Percy declared. "A drawing-box all to yourself, Tiny! Thank goodness! My chalks and pencils have some chance of being let alone; I really ought to thank mamma and papa quite as much, if not more, than you, considering that in giving you a new possession they have preserved me an old one, which I began to suspect would desert me piece by piece. What, more?" he continued, laughing at his sister's almost scream of delight, as she undid the covering of a book, and found it to be the complete poem of the "Lady of the Lake," extracts of which she had read in the reviews, and so reveled in them, child as she was, as to commit them all to memory, with scarce an effort, only longing to know the whole story.

"And now, Nelly, what is your secret? still larger than Tiny's; what can it be? Come, guess; I have you in my power, for you are not strong enough to race me as Em. would, and so I will be more merciful. What of all things would you like the best?--one, two, three guesses, and then I'll relieve you; I want to know if papa and mamma have looked into your secret chamber of wishes, as they have done in all of ours."

"Do not be afraid of guessing, Ellen; you are so very quiet, that your secret chamber of wishes, as Percy calls it, is more concealed than any of the others," said her uncle, smiling; "I am always obliged to refer to your aunt."

"Come, Nell, speak or I will indict you as unworthy of any thing. What did you say? a desk! Hurrah! then, there it is; and what a beauty--rosewood and mother-of-pearl--just fitted for an elegant young lady. How could mamma have found out so exactly? You have used the old shabby thing Herbert lent you, as quietly and contentedly as if there could not be a better. Do let us examine it!" and he dragged a table to her sofa, and displayed to the delighted child all its fittings-up, and its conveniences, and the pretty pen-holder and pencil-case, and fancy wafers, and sealing-wax, and a little gold seal with her own name, and every thing that could possibly be thought of. "And even a secret drawer," exclaimed Percy, quite proud of the discovery. "Do look, Ellen; why, you can keep all sorts of secrets there, for no one would be as clever as I am to find out the spring without being told, and of course I should not betray it:" and he laughingly sent away every body while he explained to Ellen the spring. For some little while longer did the young party examine and re-examine and talk of their own and each other's treasures. And then Mr. Hamilton bade them remember, that, though it was New Year's Eve, it was Sunday evening, too,[1] and that he had deferred the hour of evening prayer till ten, that they might have time to keep both, and so not lose the sacred music which was always part of their Sunday recreation, to put away their things, and adjourn to their music-room. And he was obeyed in a very few minutes; for though they might have preferred lingering and talking where they were, what exertion could be too great for those who so thought of, so cared for them?

[Footnote 1: While pa.s.sing through the press, the scene of the Family Tree has been strongly objected to by a valued Christian Friend, as being enacted on the Sunday evening. It was too late then to repair the error. The author can only express her sincere regret for a fault originating in an insufficient knowledge of the Christian feeling toward the Sabbath, and most earnestly trusts the error may be pardoned.]

Returning happiness had had such a beneficial effect, that, though Ellen still looked pale enough for her aunt not to feel quite comfortable about her, she could walk without any return of pain, and in one or two hymns even join her voice with her cousins', though it was weaker than usual. However small in appearance the talent for music, still Mrs.

Hamilton cultivated it, in her boys as well as her girls, simply for the sake of giving them home resources and amus.e.m.e.nts that could be pursued together; she thought it such a mistaken notion in education to imagine that only perfection was worth attaining in the fine arts, and that, if there were not talent enough for that, it was better not attempted. Many a home might have envied the feelings with which old and young, to the lowest domestics, sought their pillows that night; for Mr. and Mrs.

Hamilton, so lavish in their indulgence to their children, never forgot that for their domestics and retainers there were also claims on New Year's Eve; and the servants' hall, and every cottage which called Mr.

Hamilton landlord, had vied in happiness with his own.

Mrs. Hamilton had visited Ellen the last thing, to see that she was quite comfortable, and that there was no return of pain; and she was almost startled, and certainly still more bewildered as to how such a depth of feeling could exist with such a real childish liability to error, and why it should be so carefully concealed, by the way in which Ellen clung to her, as she bent over her to wish her good night, with the same unrestrained affection as her own Emmeline did so often, with the only difference, that with the latter it seemed always to spring from the very exuberance of happiness, which could only be thus displayed. With Ellen, this night, it appeared like some deep, quiet feeling, almost of devotion, and as if--though Mrs. Hamilton's sober reason tried to persuade her imagination that it was too much meaning to attach to a mere embrace--she would thus tell her how intensely she felt, not only the indulgence of that evening, but the true kindness and watchful love which had caused the preceding sorrow. She might have thought, as no doubt many of our readers will, that Ellen was much too young and too childish, to contrast her system of treatment with her poor mother's; that she felt her soothing care in her hours of physical suffering--her indulgent love making no distinction between her and her cousins--still the more keenly and gratefully, from the recollection of her own mother's constant preference of Edward, and utter neglect of her; and that this contrast so deepened the love she bore her aunt, that it exceeded in intensity even that borne toward her by her own children.--Adults will think this all very fanciful, and perhaps interesting, but wholly improbable. Mrs. Hamilton herself would have banished the idea, as too imaginary to be entertained seriously for a moment, as any guide for her conduct. Ellen herself could not have explained or told herself that so she felt; and yet, notwithstanding, all we have written was there, and _was_ the real prompter of that almost pa.s.sionate embrace.

"Bless you, my darling!" was Mrs. Hamilton's fond reply, instead of permitting the child to perceive the surprise it excited in herself; and Ellen sunk to sleep, almost more happy than ever, in her little life, she had felt before.

CHAPTER XI.

THE CHILDREN'S BALL.

If the thought of their promised ball were the first that entered the minds of the young party at Oakwood, as they opened their eyes on New Year's day, it was not very unnatural. Percy gloried in the antic.i.p.ation of being master of the ceremonies, and in conducting the whole affair with such inimitable grace and gallantry, that every one should declare it was far superior to any party, old or young, of the season, except Mr. Howard's; that was beyond him, he said, for he could not put Mr.

Howard's head on his shoulders. Herbert antic.i.p.ated the enjoyment of Mary Greville's society, talking to and dancing with her undisturbed, and to hearing the almost universal remark, what a sweet girl she was.

Edward did not exactly know what he expected, but he was in such a mood of hilarity and mischief, that the servants all declared Master Fortescue was "_mazed_." To Caroline their ball was almost always (though unconfessedly) the happiest evening in the year. She knew she was handsome--Annie Grahame had told her how very much she would be admired in London, and that if she were not her very dearest friend, she should envy her beauty terribly. She often in secret longed painfully for admiration and homage; and child as she still was in years, yet at her own house, and as Mr. Hamilton's eldest daughter, in addition to her real attractions, she always received both in sufficient measure, as to satisfy even herself. She delighted in those evenings when it so chanced that her brothers had young friends with them, making no hesitation in confessing that she very much preferred conversing with boys than with girls, there was so much more variety, more spirit; and though her mother's heart would actually tremble at the fearful ordeal which an introduction to the pleasures of the world would be to such a character, still she would not check the open expression of such sentiments by reproving them as wrong, and not to be encouraged. She knew that though education might do much, very much, it could not make natural characters all alike; nor, in fact, did she wish it. She did not grieve and complain that, with all her efforts she could not make Caroline give her as little trouble and anxiety as Emmeline, nor did she imagine that she should see the effect of her earnest prayers and cares all at once, or without constant relapses in the cherished object of her care. She did all she could to counteract a tendency which, situated as she would be when she entered life, must, without some strong, high principle, lead to suffering, and, perhaps, to sin--for what is coquetry? But she indulged in no idea of security, never believed that because she had so tried, so striven to sow the good seed, it could not fail to bring forth good fruit. She knew many trials might be in store for her; for how might she hope to pa.s.s through life blessed as she was then? It might please her Father in Heaven to try her faith and duty through those she loved so intensely; but if she failed not in her task, he would bring her joy at last.

To Emmeline the idea of dancing was quite enough to be the acme of enjoyment. The only drawback was, that in the intervals of rest, there was to be a little music, and though her mother had excused her at Mr.

Howard's, she knew that if anybody expressed a wish to hear her at her own house, play she must; and at those times she was half sorry she had chosen to learn the harp instead of the piano, as Caroline played so well on the latter instrument n.o.body would care to hear her; but the harp was rather a novelty, and no little girl who was coming played it, and so she was sadly afraid there was no escape for her, and that was very disagreeable, but she would not think about it till the time came; the dancing to such music as that which Mr. Hamilton had ordered from Plymouth was joy enough.

Ellen though rather afraid of so many strangers, could not resist the general contagion of antic.i.p.ated enjoyment. She did not indeed wake with the thought of the ball, but with the determination to learn the verse of the Psalm her aunt had pointed out, and go and say it to her in her dressing-room before she went down. And as the first verse was very short she learned two, and repeated them without missing a word, and so as if she quite understood them, that her aunt was very much pleased; and then Ellen could think of and join her brother's and cousins'

delight, even though Mrs. Hamilton was obliged to be what she called very cruel, but what Ellen knew was very kind, though it did seem a restraint, and keep her very quiet all day, instead of letting her run about from room to room, as Emmeline and Edward, and even Percy did, for fear of another headache; and so well did quietness succeed, that she looked and was unusually well, and so was almost lively by the evening.

Just before dinner, Percy, who had gone to ride, because he said he was sure he should get into some sc.r.a.pe if he did not give a natural vent to his spirits, galloped back in company with a gentleman, whose presence seemed to occasion him still greater excitement.

"Where is my mother? and is my father at home?" he asked impatiently, flinging his horse's rein to Robert, desiring him to take every care of the gentleman's horse, as he should not let him leave Oakwood that night; and rushing across the hall threw open the door of their common sitting-room, and exclaimed--

"Mother, give me a vote of thanks and praise for my invincible eloquence!--Here is this anchorite, this monk of the moor, who, when I first encountered him, seemed so doughty a denier of my wishes, actually conquered--led a slave to your feet; reward me by throwing all the fascinations you possibly can in his way, that he may only dream of his cold ride and desolate cottage on Dartmoor to-night."

"Be quiet, madcap!" replied Mrs. Hamilton, rising with very evident pleasure, and coming forward with extended hand; "your noisy welcome will not permit mine to be heard. This is indeed, a pleasure, Mr.

Morton," she added, addressing the young clergyman with that earnest kindness, which always goes to the heart, "and one that Mr. Hamilton will most highly appreciate--if, as I trust, the chains my son has thrown over you, are not so heavy as to become painful."

"I should rather fear the pain will be in casting them off, Mrs.

Hamilton, not in the wearing them," replied Mr. Morton, almost sadly; "it is the knowledge, that mingling as often in your home circle as Mr.

Hamilton and my friend Percy desire, would wholly unfit me for the endurance of my loneliness, that keeps me so aloof, believe me.

Inclination would act a very different part, but there was no resisting such eloquence and such happiness as his to-day," he continued, more gayly.

And Mr. Hamilton and Herbert entering as he spoke, their greeting was quite as warm and eager as Percy's and his mother's, and Mr. Morton gave himself up, for the evening at least, to enjoyment. His own generous nature had been particularly struck by Percy's manly conduct with regard to his satire, and different as were their characters, a warm friendship from that moment commenced between them. It was impossible to resist Percy's warm-heartedness of word and deed; and that he would sometimes leave his luxurious home, and stay two or three days with Mr. Morton, seeming actually to enjoy the rude cottage and its desolate localities, and spread such a spirit of mirth within and around, that it was no wonder the afflicted young man looked to his society as almost his greatest pleasure, especially as he felt he dared not too often accept Mr. Hamilton's continually-proffered invitation. Oakwood was the home which had been his _beau ideal_ for long years, but which now seemed wholly unattainable. He felt himself doomed to solitude and suffering, and the struggle for content and cheerfulness was always more painful after he had been with his friends.

When all preparations for the evening were concluded, even the respective toilets completed, Percy and Emmeline found it impossible to resist trying the spring, as they called it, of the oaken floors (whence the carpets had been removed), and amused themselves by waltzing in the largest circle they could make. The beautiful suite of rooms were all thrown open, and perceiving Caroline standing by the piano in an adjoining apartment, Percy called out--

"Play us a waltz, Caroline, there's a love; the very liveliest you can find. Tiny and I want to try the boards while we can enjoy them to perfection, that is, when we are the only persons in the room."

"You must excuse me, Percy," she replied somewhat pettishly. "I should think you would have dancing enough in the course of the evening; and what will our friends think, if they come and find me playing?"

"Think? why, that you are very obliging, which at present you are not,"

answered Percy, laughing; "never mind, Emmy; let us try what our united lungs will do."

"You may if you like, Percy, but really I am not clever enough to dance and sing at the same time--I should have no breath left," was her as joyous rejoinder.

"Come and dance, Caroline, if you will not play;" exclaimed Edward, who after decorating his b.u.t.ton-hole with a sprig of holly, seemed seized with Percy's dancing-mania. "Do give me an opportunity of practicing the graces before I am called upon to display them."

"My love of dancing is not so great as to attempt it without music, so practice by yourself, Edward," was Caroline's quick reply.

"Without spectators, you mean, Lina," observed her brother, very dryly; and as Emmeline begged him not to tease her, he asked--

"What has put her in this ill-humor, Emmy?"

"Oh, I don't know exactly; but if you let her alone, she will soon recover it."