"Ay," said the doctor, "he has been talking a good deal to me about vegetable chemistry. He would make a good scientific botanist, if he were to be nothing else. I should be glad if he sticks to it as a pursuit--'tis pretty work, and I should like to have gone further with it, if I had ever had time for it."
"I dare say he will," said Margaret. "It will be very pleasant if he can go with you. How he would enjoy the British Museum, if there was time for him to see it! Have you said anything to him yet?"
"No; I waited to see how you were, as it all depends on that."
"I think it depends still more on something else; whether Norman is as fit to take care of you as Richard is."
"That's another point. There's nothing but what he could manage now, but I don't like saying anything to him. I know he would undertake anything I wished, without a word, and then, perhaps, dwell on it in fancy, and force himself, till it would turn to a perfect misery, and upset his nerves again. I'm sorry for it. I meant him to have followed my trade, but he'll never do for that. However, he has wits enough to make himself what he pleases, and I dare say he will keep at the head of the school after all."
"How very good he has been in refraining from restlessness!"
"It's beautiful!" said Dr. May, with strong emotion. "Poor boy! I trust he'll not be disappointed, and I don't think he will; but I've promised him I won't be annoyed if he should lose his place--so we must take especial care not to show any anxiety. However, for this matter, Margaret, I wish you would sound him, and see whether it would be more pleasure or pain. Only mind you don't let him think that I shall be vexed, if he feels that he can't make up his mind; I would not have him fancy that, for more than I can tell."
This consultation revived the spirits of both; and the others returning, found Margaret quite disposed for companionship. If to her the evening was sad and strange, like a visit in a dream to some old familiar haunt, finding all unnatural, to the rest it was delightful. The room was no longer dreary, now that there was a centre for care and attentions, and the party was no longer broken up--the sense of comfort, cheerfulness, and home-gathering had returned, and the pleasant evening household gossip went round the table almost as it used to do. Dr. May resumed his old habit of skimming a club book, and imparting the cream to the listeners; and Flora gave them some music, a great treat to Margaret, who had long only heard its distant sounds.
Margaret found an opportunity of talking to Norman, and judged favourably. He was much pleased at the prospect of the journey, and of seeing a ship, so as to have a clearer notion of the scene where Harry's life was to be spent, and though the charge of the arm was a drawback, he did not treat it as insurmountable.
A few days' attendance in his father's room gave him confidence in taking Richard's place, and, accordingly, the third important measure was decided on, namely, that he and his father should accompany Harry to the naval school, and be absent three nights. Some relations would be glad to receive them in London, and Alan Ernescliffe, who was studying steam navigation at Woolwich, volunteered to meet them, and go with them to Portsmouth.
It was a wonderful event; Norman and Harry had never been beyond Whitford in their lives, and none of the young ones could recollect their papa's ever going from home for more than one night. Dr. May laughed at Margaret for her anxiety and excitement on the subject, and was more amused at overhearing Richard's precise directions to Norman over the packing up.
"Ay, Ritchie," said the doctor, as he saw his portmanteau locked, and the key given to Norman, "you may well look grave upon it. You won't see it look so tidy when it comes back again, and I believe you are thinking it will be lucky if you see it at all."
There was a very affectionate leave-taking of Harry, who, growing rather soft-hearted, thought it needful to be disdainful, scolded Mary and Blanche for "lugging off his figure-head," and assured them they made as much work about it as if he was going to sea at once. Then, to put an end to any more embraces, he marched off to the station with Tom, and nearly caused the others to be too late, by the search for him that ensued.
In due time, Dr. May and Norman returned, looking the better for the journey. There was, first, to tell of Harry's school and its master, and Alan Ernescliffe's introduction of him to a nice-looking boy of his own age; then they were eloquent on the wonders of the dockyard, the Victory, the block machinery. And London--while Dr. May went to transact some business, Norman had been with Alan at the British Museum, and though he had intended to see half London besides, there was no tearing him away from the Elgin marbles; and nothing would serve him, but bringing Dr. May the next morning to visit the Ninevite bulls. Norman further said, that whereas papa could never go out of his house without meeting people who had something to say to him, it was the same elsewhere. Six acquaintances he had met unexpectedly in London, and two at Portsmouth.
So the conversation went on all the evening, to the great delight of all. It was more about things than people, though Flora inquired after Mr. Ernescliffe, and was told he had met them at the station, had been everywhere with them, and had dined at the Mackenzies' each day. "How was he looking?" Ethel asked; and was told pretty much the same as when he went away; and, on a further query from Flora, it appeared that an old naval friend of his father's had hopes of a ship, and had promised to have him with him, and thereupon warm hopes were expressed that Harry might have a berth in the same.
"And when is he coming here again, papa?" said Ethel.
"Eh! oh! I can't tell. I say, isn't it high time to ring?"
When they went up at night, every one felt that half the say had not been said, and there were fresh beginnings on the stairs. Norman triumphantly gave the key to Richard, and then called to Ethel, "I say, won't you come into my room while I unpack?"
"Oh, yes, I should like it very much."
Ethel sat on the bed, rolled up in a cloak, while Norman undid his bag, announcing at the same time, "Well, Ethel, papa says I may get to my Euripides to-morrow, if I please, and only work an hour at a time!"
"Oh, I am so glad. Then he thinks you quite well?"
"Yes, I am quite well. I hope I've done with nonsense."
"And how did you get on with his arm?"
"Very well--he was so patient, and told me how to manage. You heard that Sir Matthew said it had got much better in these few weeks. Oh, here it is! There's a present for you."
"Oh, thank you. From you, or from papa?"
"This is mine. Papa has a present for every one in his bag. He said, at last, that a man with eleven children hadn't need to go to London very often."
"And you got this beautiful 'Lyra Innocentium' for me? How very kind of you, Norman. It is just what I wished for. Such lovely binding-- and those embossed edges to the leaves. Oh! they make a pattern as they open! I never saw anything like it."
"I saw such a one on Miss Rivers's table, and asked Ernescliffe where to get one like it. See, here's what my father gave me."
"'Bishop Ken's Manual'. That is in readiness for the Confirmation."
"Look. I begged him to put my name, though he said it was a pity to do it with his left hand; I didn't like to wait, so I asked him at least to write N. W. May, and the date."
"And he has added Prov. xxiii. 24, 25. Let me look it out." She did so, and instead of reading it aloud, looked at Norman full of congratulation.
"How it ought to make one--"and there Norman broke off from the fullness of his heart.
"I'm glad he put both verses" said Ethel presently. "How pleased with you he must be!"
A silence while brother and sister both gazed intently at the crooked characters, till at last Ethel, with a long breath, resumed her ordinary tone, and said, "How well he has come to write with his left hand now."
"Yes. Did you know that he wrote himself to tell Ernescliffe Sir Matthew's opinion of Margaret?"