"And is it no grief to give up all the pleasures of land?"

"I exchange them for others more delightful still."

"And the sea is to be your sister, uncle, aunt, and cousins--altogether?"

"Yes all," replied Edward, laughing; adding, as he put his arm affectionately round Ellen, "my sister has so many kind friends that she will be able to spare me till I am old enough to do all a brother ought."

"You are a good fellow, Edward, and I see I must not talk of parting, if I would preserve this evening's pleasure unalloyed," Grahame said, as he laid his hand kindly on Ellen's head, and then turned to obey the summons of his wife.

The young party, no doubt, felt that it would be infinitely more agreeable to sit up all night, and talk of the only too quickly concluded enjoyment, than to retire to their respective pillows; but the habits of Oakwood were somewhat too well regulated for such dissipation, though, no doubt, their _dream-land_ that night, was peopled with the pleasant shadows of reality, and, according to their respective sources of enjoyment, brought back their evening's happiness again and again.

CHAPTER XII.

EFFECTS OF PLEASURE.--THE YOUNG MIDSHIPMAN.--ILL-TEMPER, ITS ORIGIN AND CONSEQUENCES.

The return to the quiet routine of work, and less exciting recreation after the Christmas pleasures, was of course a trial to all our young friends. Not so much to the boys, as to their sisters; Percy's elastic spirits found pleasure in every thing, being somewhat too old to care for his studies, or feel them now as a restraint. Herbert only exchanged one kind of happiness for another. Edward looked to every month that pa.s.sed, as bringing nearer the attainment of his wishes; and he was so fond of Mr. Howard, and so quick at learning, and such a favorite with all his schoolfellows, that he did not care at all when the time of work came again. Ellen and Emmeline both found it very difficult to like their lessons again; especially the latter, who felt as if work and regularity were most particularly disagreeable things, and sometimes was almost in despair as to her ever enjoying them again; but she tried very hard to overcome indolence, and never give way to petulance, and succeeded, so as to win her the delight of both her parents'

approbation. Indulgence always made her feel as if no effort on her part was too great to prove how much she felt it; and when any one, old or young, experiences this sort of feeling, they need never be afraid but that they will succeed in their efforts, painful and hard as they may at first seem. It was not so difficult for Ellen as for Emmeline, because she was less able to realize such an intensity of pleasure. She seemed safer when regularly employed; and besides, to work hard at her respective studies, was one of the very few things which she could do to prove how much she loved her aunt; and accustomed from such early childhood to conquer inclination, and, in fact, never to fancy pleasure and indulgence were her due, there was happiness enough for her even in their more regular life: but to Caroline the change was actually unbearable. While admiration and praise only incited Emmeline to greater exertions, they caused Caroline completely to relax in hers, and to give, in consequence, as much trouble and annoyance as she had received pleasure. The perseverance in her various studies, especially in music, the unceasing control over her temper, which _before_ the holidays she had so striven for, had now entirely given way. It was much less trouble for her to learn than Emmeline, therefore her studies with Miss Harcourt were generally well performed; but the admiration she had excited made her long for more, and believe herself a person deserving much more consideration and respect than she received from her own family. These thoughts persisted in, of course, produced and retained ill-temper; which, as there was no longer any fear of her being debarred by its indulgence from any pleasure, she made no attempt to overcome. The praise bestowed on her music, made her fancy herself a much greater proficient than she really was, and though her love of music was great, her love of praise was greater; and so she not only relaxed in her practice, but inwardly murmured at the very little praise she received from her mother.

"How can you give mamma so much trouble, Caroline, when you know you can do so much better?" Herbert exclaimed, one day, when an attack of weakness, to which he was liable, had confined him to a sofa.

Mrs. Hamilton, after giving her usual hour's lesson, in which Caroline had chosen to do nothing, had left her in very evident displeasure, and even Herbert was roused to most unusual indignation.

"What is the use of practicing day after day?" was her angry reply; "I am sure I should play just as well if I practiced less."

"You did not think so a month ago, Caroline."

"No, because then I had something to practice for."

"And have you nothing now?--Is mamma's approbation nothing?--Is the pleasure you give all of us, by your talent for music, nothing?--Oh, Caroline, why will you throw away so much real gratification, for the vain desire of universal admiration?"

"There surely can be no harm, Herbert, in wishing to be universally loved and admired."

"There is, when it makes you discontented and unhappy, and blind to the love and admiration of your home. What is the praise of strangers worth, compared to that of those who love you best?"

"There is not much chance of my receiving either at present," was the cold reply.

"Because you will not try for the one most easily and happily obtained; and even without thinking of praise, how can you be so ungrateful, as to repay all mamma's care and trouble by the indolence, coldness, and almost insolence, you have shown to-day? How few mothers of her rank would--"

"You may spare your sermon, Herbert; for at this moment I am not disposed either to listen to or profit by it," interrupted Caroline, and she left the room in anger. A faint flush rose to the pale cheek of her brother, but he quickly conquered the natural irritation, and sought his mother, by every fond attention on his part, to remove the pain of Caroline's conduct.

This continued for about a fortnight, at the end of which time, Caroline suddenly resumed her music with a.s.siduity, and there were no more ebullitions of ill-temper. Herbert hoped his expostulations were taking effect; Mrs. Hamilton trusted that her child was becoming sensible of her past folly, and trying to conquer it, and banish its memory herself: both, however, were mistaken. Annie Grahame had imparted to her friend, in strict confidence, that her mother intended giving a grand ball about the end of February, and meant to entreat Mrs. Hamilton, as a personal favor, to let Caroline be present. Caroline little knew the very slight foundation Annie had for this a.s.sertion. Lady Helen had merely said, _perhaps_ she would ask; and this was only said, because she was too indolent and weak to say "No" at once. Not that she had any unkind feeling toward Caroline, but simply because she was perfectly certain Mrs. Hamilton would not consent, and to persuade as earnestly as Annie wished was really too much trouble.

Caroline's wishes in this instance triumphed over her better judgment, for had she allowed herself to think soberly, she ought to have known her mother's principles of action sufficiently, not to entertain the slightest hope of going.

The invitations (three weeks' notice) for her parents and brothers came.

In them she did not expect to be included, but when above a week pa.s.sed, and still not a word was said, disappointment took the place of hope, and it was only the still lingering belief that she might go, even at the last moment, that prevented the return of ill-temper.

Now Lady Helen really had asked, though she did not persuade; and Mrs.

Hamilton thanked her, but, as she expected, decidedly refused. "Caroline was much too young," she said, "for such a party. Did she know any thing about being asked?" Lady Helen said, with truth, that she had not mentioned the subject to her, and had desired Annie to be equally silent.

Mrs. Hamilton quite forgot that Miss Grahame was not famous for obedience, and, relying on her friend's a.s.surance, determined on not saying any thing to Caroline about it; wishing to spare her the pain which she knew her refusal would inflict. As it happened, it would have been better if she had spoken. The weather had prevented Caroline from seeing Annie, but she was quite sure she would not deceive her; and her proud heart rebelled against her mother, not only for refusing Lady Helen's request, but for treating her so much like a child, as to hide that refusal from her. Under the influence of such thoughts, of course, her temper became more and more difficult to control and as a natural consequence, anger and irritation against her mother, and self-reproach for the indulgence of such feelings increased, till she became actually miserable.

It happened that about this time Miss Harcourt left Oakwood for a week on a visit to an invalid friend at Dartmouth. Mrs. Hamilton had given her full liberty, promising that her pupils should lose nothing by her absence. She left on the Sat.u.r.day, and the Thursday was Lady Helen's ball. On the Monday, Mr. Hamilton, detained Edward as he was leaving the library, after morning prayers, and told him that he had received a letter, which he thought might chance to interest him. Ten minutes afterward, Edward rushed into the breakfast-room, in a state of such joyous excitement that he could scarcely speak.

"Wish me five, ten, twenty thousand joys!" he exclaimed, springing from chair to chair, as if velocity of movement should bring back speech. "In one month the Prince William sails, and I am to meet her at Portsmouth, and be a sailor, a real sailor; and to-morrow fortnight uncle says we are to start for London, and have ten days there to see all the fine sights, and then go to Portsmouth, and see all that is to be seen there, and then--and then--"

"Take care you do not lose your wits before you leave Oakwood,"

interposed Percy laughing heartily. "I should not at all wonder, before you go, that you will be fancying the river Dart the Atlantic, and set sail in a basket, touch at all the islets you may pa.s.s, imagining them various cities, and finally land at Dartmouth, believing it Halifax, your destined port--that will be the end of your sailorship, Edward, depend upon it."

"I rather think I should stand a chance of being ducked into my sober senses again, Percy, unless wicker be waterproof, which I never heard it was."

"But I have, though," eagerly interrupted Emmeline; "the Scots and Picts invaded England in wicker boats, and to have held so many men, they must have been strong and waterproof too. So you see, Percy's basket is only an ancient boat, Edward. You are much better off than you thought you were."

"Give me Alfred's wooden walls instead, Emmy; your Picts and Scots were very little better than savages--Alfred is my man; he deserves to be called great, if it were only for forming the first English navy. But neither my aunt nor Ellen have wished me joy. I think I shall be offended."

Mrs. Hamilton could not speak at the first moment, for the joy, the animation of her nephew so recalled the day when her own much-loved brother, her darling Charles, had rushed into her room, to tell her all his glee, for no one ever listened to and shared in his joys and troubles as she did. He was then scarcely older than Edward, as full of hope and joy and buoyancy--where was he? Would his fate be that of the bright, beautiful boy before her? And as Edward threw his arms round her neck, and kissed her again and again, telling her he could not be quite sure it was not all a dream, unless she wished him joy too it was the utmost effort to prevent the fast gathering tears, and so command her voice, that he should not hear her tremble. Poor Ellen looked and felt bewildered. She had always tried to realize that Edward, to be a sailor, must leave her; and in fact aware that his summons would soon come, her aunt and uncle had often alluded to his departure before her, but still she had never thought it near; and now the news was so sudden, and Edward was so wild with joy she fancied she ought to rejoice too, but she could not; and Percy was obliged to ask her merrily, what ailed her, and if she could not trust to his being a much more worthy brother than such a water-rat, who had no business whatever on land, before she could take her place at the breakfast table and try to smile. But her eyes would rest on Edward even then, and she felt as if there were something across her throat and she could not swallow the nice roll which Herbert, had so kindly b.u.t.tered and cut, and so quietly placed in her plate; and when Edward said something very funny, as he was in the habit of doing, and made them all laugh, she tried to laugh too, but instead of a laugh it was a sob that startled herself, for she was quite sure she did not mean to be so foolish: but instead of being reproved, as she was afraid she should be, she felt her aunt's arm thrown gently round her, till she could hide her face on her shoulder, and cry quite quietly for a few minutes, for they went on talking and laughing round the breakfast-table, and n.o.body took any notice of her, which she was quite glad of, for she could not bear Edward to think she was unhappy when he was so pleased. And after breakfast, though he was in such a desperate hurry to tell Mr. Howard the good news, that when he did set off, he left even Percy far behind him, he found time to give her a hearty kiss, and to tell her that he loved her very much, though he could not help being so glad he was going to sea; and that he was quite proud of her, because though he knew she was very sorry he was going, she did not cry and make a fuss as some selfish people would; and then she really did smile.

"It is Monday morning, my dears, and I find Ellis and Morris require my attention for a longer time than I expected," Mrs. Hamilton said, as she entered the school-room, and found the three girls preparing their books, "so I must set you all to work, and see how well you can get on without me till eleven, when I will rejoin you. I shall order the carriage at half-past twelve, and if all I require is completed, we will pay your favorite old ruin a visit, Emmy; the morning is so lovely, that I think we may venture to take our sketch-books, and see what other part of Berry Pomeroy we can take pencil possession of."

Such an antic.i.p.ation was quite enough for Emmeline. Her dance about the room was only checked by the idea that her lessons would never be ready, nor her exercises and sums done, unless she sat quietly down, and so, with a great effort, she gave all her attention to her various tasks, and mastered them even before her mother returned. Ellen, though she tried quite as much, was not so successful. The Prince William would sail in miniature on her slate, over all her figures. The recollection of the awful storm they had encountered on their voyage to England would return so vividly, that the very room seemed to heave. And then--but she could not make out why she should think about that then--her mother's death-bed came before her and her promise, and it seemed harder still to part with Edward, from a vague dread that came over her, but still she tried to attend to what she had to do, and congratulated herself on its completion before her aunt appeared.

Caroline, alone, was determined not to work. Because she had not made herself miserable enough already, the most unfounded jealousy entered her head from seeing her mother's caressing kindness toward Ellen at breakfast; why was not her manner as kind to her! She was quite as unhappy, and her mother must see it, but she took no notice of her--only of Ellen. She might be cross sometimes, but she never told stories or tried to hide her faults, and it was very hard and unjust that she should be treated so like a child, and Ellen made so much of; and so she thought and thought, not attempting to do a single thing till she actually made herself believe, for the time, that her kind, indulgent mother had no love for her; and every thing looked blacker than before.

She made no effort to rouse herself even in Mrs. Hamilton's presence, but listened to her remonstrances with such extreme carelessness, almost insolence, that her mother felt her patience failing. The self-control, however, for which she had successfully striven, enabled her so to overcome the irritation, as to retain her own quiet dignity, and simply to desire Caroline to give her attention at once to her studies, and conquer her ill-temper, or not to think of accompanying them on their excursion, as idleness and peevishness were better left to themselves.

An insolent and haughty reply rose to Caroline's lips; but with an effort she remained silent, her flushed forehead alone denoting the internal agitation. Emmeline's diligence and the approbation she received irritated her still more; but she rejoiced when she heard her mother tell Ellen there was not a correct line in her French exercise, and her sum, a compound long division, wrong from the very first figure.

But the pleasure soon gave place to indignant anger, when, instead of the reproof which she believed would follow, Mrs. Hamilton said very kindly--

"I should very much like these done correctly, Ellen, before we go out; suppose you ensconce yourself in that bay window, there are a table and chair all ready for you, and we shall not interrupt you as we should if you remain at this table. I know they are both very difficult, to-day especially, but the more merit in their accomplishment, you know the more pleased I shall be."

Ellen obeyed directly; a little care, and with the a.s.sistance of her grammar, which her aunt permitted her to refer to, instead of depending entirely on her memory that morning, enabled her to succeed with her French; but four times was that tormenting sum returned to, till at last her tears effaced the figures as fast as they were written. Still, patience and resolution in both teacher and pupil conquered, and the fifth time there was not a figure wrong; and Mrs. Hamilton, fondly putting back the heavy ringlets which in Ellen's absorbed attention had fallen over her tearful cheeks, said, playfully--

"Shall I tell you a secret, my little Ellen? I was quite as disinclined to be firm this morning as you were to be patient; so you see we have both gained a grand victory. My conjuring propensities, as Emmy thinks them, told me that you had real cause for some little inattention, and, therefore that it was very cruel in me to be so determined; but my _judgment_ would tell me that my _feeling_ was wrong, and that to conquer disinclination and overcome a difficulty, was a much better way of lessening even natural sorrow than to give up. I do not expect you to think so just now, but I fancy you are not very sorry this disagreeable, terribly tiresome sum has not to be done to-morrow, which it must have been, had you left it to-day."

Ellen was so glad, that she felt almost happy, and her few other duties were done quite briskly, for Mrs. Hamilton had been so kind as to countermand the carriage till one, that she and Caroline might have time to finish. But Caroline, if she had not tried before, was now still less capable of doing so. Every word of kindness addressed to Ellen increased the storm raging within, and the difficulty of restraining it in Mrs.

Hamilton's presence caused it to burst forth with unmitigated violence the moment she quitted the apartment, desiring Emmeline and Ellen to make haste, and put away their books, but still without taking the least notice of her. Invective, reproach, almost abuse, were poured against Ellen, who stood actually frightened at the violence she had so very innocently excited, and at the fearful and deforming pa.s.sion which inflamed her cousin's every feature. Caroline's anger had miscounted time, or she must have known that her mother could not have gone far enough, for such unusual tones of excitement to escape her quick hearing. Mrs. Hamilton, startled and alarmed, returned directly, and so vividly did her child's appearance and words recall her own misguided sister in those uncontrolled fits of fury, under which she had so often trembled, that present disappointment and dread for the future, took possession of her, and for the moment rendered her powerless. Caroline was too much engrossed to perceive her at first, and she had, therefore time to rally from the momentary weakness.

"What does this mean?" she exclaimed, fixing her eyes on Caroline, with that expression of quiet but stern reproof, which when she did use it--and it was very seldom--had the power of subduing even the wildest excitement. "What has Ellen done, that you should abuse her with this unjust and cruel and most unfeminine violence? You have indulged your ill-temper till you do not know what you say or do, and you are venting on another the anger which my displeasure has caused you to feel toward me and toward yourself. I desire that you will control it directly, or retire to your own room, till you can behave with some degree of propriety, and not disturb the comfort and happiness of others in this most uncalled-for manner."

"I will not go," answered Caroline, bursting into violent tears, and scarcely aware of what she was saying, "I know I dislike Ellen, and I have reason to dislike her, for before she came, you were never so often displeased with me; you are always kind and indulgent to her, always treat her as a reasonable being, not as the child, the infant you think me. I know you have lost all love for me, or you must have seen I was unhappy, and spoken kindly to me, as you did to Ellen; I have every reason to dislike her, stealing your affection from me as she has, and I do with all my heart!"

"Go, and prepare for our drive, my dear children," Mrs. Hamilton said, as she calmly turned for a moment to Emmeline and Ellen, who both stood bewildered, the former from actual terror that her sister should dare so to address her mother, and the latter from pain at the violent avowal of a dislike which she had intuitively felt, but had always tried to disbelieve. "The beauty of the day will be gone if we linger much longer, and I do not intend to be disappointed of our promised ramble.

Do not think any thing of what this unhappy girl is saying; at present she scarcely knows herself, and will by-and-by wish it recalled, far more intensely than ever we can."

Emmeline longed to throw her arms round her mother, and with tears beseech her to forget what Caroline had said; but, though Mrs. Hamilton had spoken cheerfully, and in quite her usual tone of voice to them, there was something in her countenance, that checked any display of softness even in her affectionate child; something that almost awed her, and she left the room with Ellen to prepare for the promised excursion, which had, however, lost all its antic.i.p.ated enjoyment from the uncontrolled temper of another.