Nobody

"And what a place do you think it is?"

"O, so wonderfully full of beautiful things – so full! so full! – and ofsuch different beautiful things. I had only known Shampuashuh and theSound and New York; and Appledore was like a new world." Lois spokewith a kind of inner fire, which sparkled in her eyes and gave accentto her words.

"What was the charm? I do not know Appledore," said Mrs. Barclaycarelessly, but watching her.

"It is difficult to put some things in words. I seemed to be out of theworld of everyday life, and surrounded by what was pure and fresh andpowerful and beautiful – it all comes back to me now, when I think ofthe surf breaking on the rocks, and the lights and colours, and thefeeling of the air."

"But how were the people? were they uncommon too? Part of one'simpression is apt to come from the human side of the thing."

"Mine did not. The people of the Islands are queer, rough people, almost as strange as all the rest; but I saw more of some city peoplestaying at the hotel; and they did not fit the place at all."

"Why not?"

"They did not enjoy it. They did not seem to see what I saw, unlessthey were told of it; nor then either."

"Well, you must come in and let me teach you to draw," said Mrs.Barclay. "I shall want to feel that I have some occupation, or I shallnot be happy. Perhaps your sister will come too."

"Madge? O, thank you! how kind of you! I do not know whether Madge everthought of such a thing."

"You are the man of business of the house. What is she?"

"Madge is the dairywoman, and the sempstress. But we all do that."

"You are fond of reading? I have brought a few books with me, which Ihope you will use freely. I shall unpack them by and by."

"That will be delightful," Lois said, with a bright expression ofpleasure. "We have not subscribed to the library, because we felt wecould hardly spare the money."

They were called to breakfast; and Mrs. Barclay studied again withfresh interest all the family group. No want of capacity and receptivereadiness, she was sure; nor of active energy. Sense, andself-reliance, and independence, and quick intelligence, were to beread in the face and manner of each one; good ground to work upon.Still Mrs. Barclay privately shook her head at her task.

"Miss Madge," she said suddenly, "I have been proposing to teach yoursister to draw. Would you like to join her?"

Madge seemed too much astonished to answer immediately. Charity spokeup and asked, "To draw what?"

"Anything she likes. Pretty things, and places."

"I don't see what's the use. When you've got a pretty thing, whatshould you draw it for?"

"Suppose you have not got it."

"Then you can't draw it," said Charity.

"O Charity, you don't understand," cried Lois. "If I had known how todraw, I could have brought you home pictures of the Isles of Shoalslast summer."

"They wouldn't have been like."

Lois laughed, and Mrs. Barclay remarked, that was rather begging thequestion.

"What question?" said Charity.

"I mean, you are assuming a thing without evidence."

"It don't need evidence," said Charity. "I never saw a picture yet thatwas worth a red cent. It's only a make-believe."

"Then you will not join our drawing class, Miss Charity?"

"No; and I should think Madge had better stick to her sewing. There'splenty to do."

"Duty comes first," said the old lady; "and I shouldn't think dutywould leave much time for making marks on paper."

The first thing Mrs. Barclay did after breakfast was to unpack some ofher books and get out her writing box; and then the impulse seized herto write to Mr. Dillwyn.

"I had meant to wait," she wrote him, "and not say anything to youuntil I had had more time for observation; but I have seen so muchalready that my head is in an excited state, and I feel I must relievemyself by talking to you. Which of these ladies is the one? Is it theblack-haired beauty, with her white forehead and clean-cut features?she is very handsome! But the other, I confess, is my favourite; she isless handsome, but more lovely. Yes, she is lovely; and both of themhave capacity and cleverness. But, Philip, they belong to the strictlyreligious sort; I see that; the old grandmother is a regular Puritan, and the girls follow her lead; and I am in a confused state of mindthinking what can ever be the end of it all. Whatever would you do withsuch a wife, Philip Dillwyn? You are not a bad sort of man at all; atleast you know I think well of you; but you are not a Puritan, andthis little girl is. I do not mean to say anything against her; only, you want me to make a woman of the world out of the girl – and I doubtmuch whether I shall be able. There is strength in the whole family; itis a characteristic of them; a capital trait, of course, but in certaincases interfering with any effort to mould or bend the material towhich it belongs. What would you do, Philip, with a wife who woulddisapprove of worldly pleasures, and refuse to take part in worldlyplans, and insist on bringing all questions to the bar of the Bible? Ihave indeed heard no distinctively religious conversation here yet; butI cannot be mistaken; I see what they are; I know what they will saywhen they open their lips. I feel as if I were a swindler, taking yourmoney on false pretences; setting about an enterprise which maysucceed, possibly, but would succeed little to your advantage. Thinkbetter of it and give it up! I am unselfish in saying that; for thepeople please me. Life in their house, I can fancy, might be veryagreeable to me; but I am not seeking to marry them, and so there is noviolent forcing of incongruities into union and fellowship. Phil, youcannot marry a Puritan."

How Mrs. Barclay was to initiate a system of higher education in thisfarmhouse, she did not clearly see. Drawing was a simple thing enough; but how was she to propose teaching languages, or suggest algebra, orinsist upon history? She must wait, and feel her way; and in themeantime she scattered books about her room, books chosen with somecare, to act as baits; hoping so by and by to catch her fish. Meanwhileshe made herself very agreeable in the family; and that without anyparticular exertion, which she rightly judged would hinder and not helpher object.

"Isn't she pleasant?" said Lois one evening, when the family were alone.

"She's elegant!" said Madge.

"She has plenty to say for herself," added Charity.

"But she don't look like a happy woman, Lois," Madge went on. "Her faceis regularly sad, when she ain't talking."

"But it's sweet when she is."

"I'll tell you what, girls," said Charity, – "she's a real proud woman."

"O Charity! nothing of the sort," cried Lois. "She is as kind as shecan be."

"Who said she wasn't? I said she was proud, and she is. She's a right, for all I know; she ain't like our Shampuashuh people."

"She is a lady," said Lois.

"What do you mean by that, Lois?" Madge fired up. "You don't mean, Ihope, that the rest of us are not ladies, do you?"

"Not like her."

"Well, why should we be like her?"

"Because her ways are so beautiful. I should be glad to be like her.

She is just what you called her – elegant."

"Everybody has their own ways," said Madge.

"I hope none of you will be like her," said Mrs. Armadale gravely; "forshe's a woman of the world, and knows the world's ways, and she knowsnothin' else, poor thing!"

"But, grandmother," Lois put in, "some of the world's ways are good."