FOR a few days after I was occupied entirely with my own affairs. We had promised to go to the Park to see that strange sister Sarah, who troubled Aunt Milly’s mind so much; and we had, of course, to make some little preparations for going—more, indeed, than were very convenient at such a time, as you may very well suppose. However, Aunt Connor, who had not paid the last half year’s interest, sent it just then, “all in a lump,” as she said herself, “thinking it would do you more good;” as indeed it did, though perhaps poor Aunt Connor had other motives than that one for not sending it just when it was due. Harry was quite pleased at the thought of going to the Park. He got leave of absence for a few days; and, naturally, it was a satisfaction to him, after feeling that he had been obliged to keep his wife in the shade so long, to say that it was to my relations we were going. And what with all the preparations for his going away as well, I was so very busy that I got little leisure to think. It is very common to say what good opportunities for thought one has in working at one’s needle—and it is very true so far as quiet, leisurely work is concerned; but when it happens to be making shirts and such things—and you know, with most men, merely to say they are made at home is enough to make them feel as if they did not fit,—it is quite a different matter. I was too busy, both mind and fingers, to do much thinking; and that was far better for me than if I had found more leisure. I used to go up to Lizzie’s room, which we called the nursery, and work there. Baby sat on the carpet, well protected with cushions, and furnished with things to play with. He was not very particular—his playthings were of a very humble and miscellaneous order; but I am sure he was as happy as a little king.

“And eh, isn’t it grand that his birthday’s come before the Captain gangs away? He’ll, maybe, be back,” said Lizzie, peering into my face with a sidelong look, “before another year.”{269}

“Hush!” said I, hastily; “but you must remember, Lizzie, to be particularly nice and tidy, and to look as if you were twenty, at least, when we go to the Park.”

Here Lizzie drew herself up a little. “I’ve never been among a housefu’ o’ servants,” said Lizzie, “that’s true—but I’ve been wi’ a leddy, and that suld learn folk manners better nor a’ the flunkeys in the world. For Menico says, as well as I can understand him, that there’s twa men-servants, and as mony maids as would fill a house. Eh, mem, wouldn’t it be a great vexation to see a wheen idle folk aye in the road? Menico’s no like a common man; there’s no an article he canna do; but as for just flunkeys to hand the plates and do about a house—eh, if it was me, I would think they werena men.”

“But Miss Mortimer’s man is not a flunkey; it was he who came with us in the omnibus,” said I.

“Yon gentleman?” said Lizzie, in great dismay. “I thought he was a minister; and eh, to think of him puttin’ on fires and waitin’ at the table! I would far sooner be a woman mysel’.”

“And have you any objection to be a woman apart from that?” said I. “I did not think you had been so ambitious, Lizzie. What would you do if you were a man?”

Lizzie’s colour rose, and her work fell from her hand. “I would gang to the wars with the Captain,” cried the girl, “I would aye make a spring in before him where danger was. I would send word every day how he did, and what he was doing. I would stand by our ain flag if they hacked me in pieces. I wouldna let the Hielanders stay still, no a moment!—I would dash them down on the enemy wi’ a’ their bayonets, and cry ‘Scotland and the Queen!’ and if we were killed, wha’s heeding!—it would be worth a man’s while to die!”

This outburst was more than I could bear. I forgot to think it was only Lizzie, a woman and a child, that spoke. I put my hands over my eyes to shut out the prospect she brought before me, but only saw the picture all the clearer, as my hand, with all its warm pulses beating, shut out the daylight. I could see Harry rushing before them with his sword drawn. I could hear his voice pealing out over their heads; I could see the smoke close over him and swallow him up. Ah, heaven!—pictures and stories are made out of such scenes. This creature by my side had flamed up into exulting enthusiasm at the thought. How many hearts attended those charging regiments, breaking against each other, heart upon{270} heart! It came to my heart to wonder, suddenly, whether there might not be some young Russian woman, like me, imagining that fight. Her husband and my Harry might meet under those dreadful flags,—she and I, would not we meet, too, in our agony? I held out my arms to her with a cry of anguish—we were sisters, though they were foes.

When I looked up Lizzie was crying bitterly, partly with he............