The being made important was a great thing with Clara, and she was quite reconciled to the prospect of her charge by the time they had to go down stairs to tea.

After tea Marian was left alone with Lionel, while Clara was with her mother; and Walter in consultation with Mr. Lyddell, for here at least was one benefit, that Walter seemed to have taken his proper place, and to be a real comfort and help to his father in a way he had never hoped for.

"You've cheered up Clara, I hear in her voice," said Lionel.

"O yes, we shall do very well."

"Do you mind it, Marian?" said he, turning his ear towards her, as if to judge by the minute intonations of her answer, as people do by the expression of the countenance.

Her reply was brave, "No, not at all."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I don't see what would be gained by keeping you and Walter here.

She does not depend on Walter as she does on your father, and all that is required we can do as well without Walter in the house. It would be nonsense to keep you merely for the feel of having some one, and for the rest, I am sure Clara will be the better for being thrust forward, and made useful."

"Very well. I should not in the least mind waiting, for I have not much hope myself, but it is just as well for oneself and every one else to be put out of one's misery as soon as possible, and settle down into it."

Marian remembered how differently he had spoken half a year ago, when the danger first broke on him, and looking up she saw his steadfast though mournful face. She spoke her thought.

"It has been a great thing to have this long preparation."

"Yes, I am glad of it, though I have been a great plague and nuisance to every one, especially to you, Marian. I know what you're going to say, so let alone that. I wish--. But no use talking of that, she was very kind and we got very comfortable together after you were gone, Marian, and I like to remember that."

"Ah! I was sure you would. And Walter read you what she said about you?"

"Yes, I wish--I little knew"--then suddenly "Marian, I'll tell you something: one morning when you were gone, she had to read a bit of a chapter in the Gospel about the healing the blind man, and you can't think how hard she tried to get through it without breaking down, but she could not. She cried at last, as if she could not help it, and then she got up, and came and kissed me, and I felt her tears on my face. I didn't know what to say, but that's what I like to remember."

"And the Church-going on Christmas day," whispered Marian.

"Ay, she led me up," said Lionel.

"Everything is so very comforting," said Marian.

"So Walter says."

"Lionel, do you remember the print you and Gerald gave me long ago of S.

Margaret walking through the dark wood of this world, and subduing the dragon? I am sure she is like it. She had all this world before her, and she chose vexation and trouble instead of doing wrong! O Lionel, it is very n.o.ble!"

"That it is," said Lionel, "only things never seem so at the time. I wish they did, but. I am glad my father saw it all right before, and said he was glad she had given him up."

"Yes, that is a comfort."

"My poor father!" said Lionel presently, "I never guessed he cared so much about--things. Do you know, Marian, I think even if I do get back my eyes, I could not go after the Australian bulls, unless 'twas the only way of getting a living."

"I am glad you have put them out of your head," said Marian, smiling sadly.

"Ay, I was very mad upon them once," said Lionel, "but I see that eyes or no eyes, we must set ourselves in earnest to be some sort of comfort to them, and if Johnny is to be always at sea, I had better not be on the other side of the world. If I am to see, why then it is all right; if not, I'll do the best I can at home."

"That's right, Lionel."

"I can do a good deal already, I am no trouble to any one, am I? I can go all over the house and park by myself, and find all my own goods without any one's help, and I'll do more in time, so as to be no bother to any one, and I do believe now they like to have me at home. Don't you remember, Marian," and he lowered his voice confidentially, one reason why I wanted to go to Australia, and make a fortune?"

"Yes," said Marian, knowing that he meant his vision of winning love from his parents.

"Well, I think," said he, "that being blind has answered as well."

A silence, then he went on, "I know what you meant now about a time when I might he glad to have been blind. If Caroline had married that man, she would not have died as happily as that, and there was an end of all the trouble and vexation; so there will be an end to my blindness some time or other, and it will keep me out of lots of mischief. I don't mean that there is not plenty of opportunity of doing wrong as it is," he added, "but not so much. Better be blind than like Elliot, and perhaps I might have come to that."

"O Lionel, it is such a comfort you can speak so!"

"I've tried it now, and 'tis not so very bad," said Lionel, turning with an odd mixture of smile and sadness, "besides I saw almost the last of her face, and I should only miss her the more like her voice. I have got her face stored up with all of yours. You know I shan't see when any of you grow old and ugly, Marian. Well, and after all I am glad it is to be settled now, I don't think I shall mind it near so much as I should another time, now I have just heard all that over her grave. I got Walter to read it to me all over again when we came home. It has been very nice to have Walter."

Marian guessed how Walter had strengthened and helped him, and she judged rightly, but she did not know how silently he listened to all Walter's talkings and readings, unable to pour out his full feeling to any one but herself.

The others came in from their different quarters, it was late, and Marian was about to wish good night, when Walter in a low hurried voice said to her and Clara, "Don't go yet, my father wishes to have prayers."

A moment more and the servants came in, all were kneeling, and Marian's tears of thankful joy were streaming fast as Walter read an evening prayer. Was not Caroline glad? was the thought, as she recollected that first morning, when all had seemed to her childish mind so dreary and unhallowed, and when Caroline had lamented the omission. Yes! was not Caroline glad, now that one of the dearest wishes of her heart had been gained? Was she not glad of this first token that trouble had brought a change over her father?

Each fresh pet.i.tion brought such a gush of earnest softened tears that Marian's face bore evident traces of them, when she rose up, and had to wish Mr. Lyddell good night. She did not speak, but held out her hand.

He spoke with difficulty, "My dear," he said, "I have wished to thank you, but I cannot otherwise than by leaving more on your hands. Walter has told you how it is with us. You are kind enough to help Clara.

I don't know what we should do without you. I rely on your judgment entirely."

"I'll do my best," said Marian, "I am glad to be of use."

"You were _her_ best friend," said Mr. Lyddell hastily. "Well, good night, thank you, my dear," and he kissed her forehead, as though she had been his own daughter.

CHAPTER XX.

"Let us be patient. These severe afflictions Not from the ground arise But oftentimes celestial benedictions a.s.sume this dark disguise.

"We see but dimly through the mists and vapours Amid these earthly damps What seems to us but sad funereal tapers May be heaven's distant lamps."

LONGFELLOW.

There were morning prayers before the hurried breakfast, which was interspersed with numerous directions about what was to be done for Mrs.

Lyddell, and what letters were to be sent after Mr. Lyddell. Lionel was grave and silent, as became one whose fate was in the balance, without either shrinking or bravado; but somewhat as if he was more inclined, than had been the case last night, to hope for a favorable result.

With heartfelt prayers did Marian watch him as be crossed the hall and entered the carriage, calling out a cheerful good-bye,--prayers that, if it were the will of Heaven, his affliction might be removed; but that if not, help might be given him to turn it into a blessing, as he seemed almost to be beginning to do. His father, too,--little had Marian ever thought to feel for him the affectionate compa.s.sion and sympathy, of which she was now sensible, as she responded to his kind, fatherly farewell, and thought of what he must be feeling; obliged to leave his wife in so anxious and suffering a state; his daughter, the pride of the family, removed so suddenly; his most promising son probably blind for life; his eldest, a grief, pain, and shame to them all. Marian must pray for him too, that he might be supported and aided through these most bitter trials, and that the work which they had begun in him might go on and be perfected; that these troubles, grievous as they were, might in his ease also turn to blessings.

The occupation of the two girls was all day the care of Mrs. Lyddell.

She was not worse, as far as bodily ailments went; the attack of cold, brought on by leaving her room to attend on Caroline, had gone off, and her strength was in some degree returning; but she was restless, excited, irritable, and with an inability to restrain herself, that was more alarming than Marian liked to own to herself, far less to Clara.

She insisted on getting up at an earlier hour than she had hitherto attempted; she was worn out and wearied with dressing; she was impatient and vexed with Clara, for some mistake about her pillows; and the trembling of her hand, as she was eating some broth, was uncontrollable.

The broth was not what she liked, and she would send for the housekeeper, to reprove her about it; asked questions about the arrangements, found them not as she wished; spoke sharply, said no one took heed to anything while she was ill, and then burst into a fit of weeping at the thought of the daughter who would have been able to supply her place.