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Sir John Thornton said this because a pair of arms had been flung suddenly round his neck, and two kisses imprinted passionately on his sallow cheek. A tear also rested on his cheek, but that he wiped away.
Chapter Two Travelling Companions
Three months before, Hester Thornton had been one of the happiest, brightest, and merriest of little girls in shire; but the mother who was her guardian angel, who had kept the frank and spirited child in check without appearing to do so, who had guided her by the magical power of love and not in the least by that of fear, had met her death suddenly by means of a carriage accident, and Hester and baby Nan were left motherless. Several little brothers and sisters had come between Hester and Nan, but from various causes they had all died in their infancy, and only the eldest and youngest of Sir John Thorntons family remained.
Hesters father was stern, uncompromising. He was a very just and upright man, but he knew nothing of the ways of children, and when Hester in her usual tom-boyish fashion climbed trees and tore her dresses, and rode bare-backed on one or two of his most dangerous horses, he not only tried a little sharp, and therefore useless, correction, but determined to take immediate steps to have his wild and rather unmanageable little daughter sent to a first-class school. Hester was on her way there now, and very sore was her heart, and indignant her impulses. Fathers good-bye seemed to her to be the crowning touch to her unhappiness, and she made up her mind not to be good, not to learn her lessons, not to come home at Midsummer crowned with honours and reduced to an every-day and pattern little girl. No, she would be the same wild Hetty as of yore: and when father saw that school could do nothing for her, that it could never make her into a good and ordinary little girl, he would allow her to remain at home. At home there was, at least, Nan to love, and there was mother to remember.
Hetty was a child of the strongest feelings. Since her mothers death she had scarcely mentioned her name. When her father alluded to his wife, Hester ran out of the room: when the servants spoke of their late mistress, Hester turned pale, stamped her feet, and told them to be quiet.
You are not worthy to speak of my mother, she electrified them all one day by exclaiming. My mother is an angel now, and you oh, you are not fit to breathe her name!
Only to one person would Hetty ever voluntarily say a word about the beloved dead mother, and that was to little Nan. Nan said her prayers, as she expressed it, to Hetty now; and Hetty taught her a little phrase to use instead of the familiar God bless mother. She taught the child to say, Thank God for making mother into a beautiful angel; and when Nan asked what an angel was, and how the cosy mother she remembered could be turned into one, Hester was beguiled into a soft and tearful talk, and she drew several lovely pictures of white-robed angels, until the little child was satisfied and said
Me like that, Hetty mell be angel too, Hetty, same as mamma.
These talks with Nan, however, did not come very often, and of late they had almost ceased, for Nan was only two and a half, and the strange sad fact remained that in three months she had almost forgotten her mother.
Hester on her way to school this morning cried for some time, then she sat silent, her crape veil still down, and her eyes watching furtively her fellow-passengers. They consisted of two rather fidgety old ladies,
who wrapped themselves in rugs, were very particular on the question of hot bottles, and watched Hester in their turn with considerable curiosity and interest. Presently one of them offered the little girl a sandwich, which she was too proud or too shy to accept, although by this time she was feeling extremely hungry.
You will, perhaps, prefer a cake, my dear? said the good-natured little old lady. My sister Agnes has got some delicious queen-cakes in her basket will you eat one?
Hester murmured a feeble assent, and the queen-cake did her so much good that she ventured to raise her crape veil and to look around her.
Ah, that is much better, said the first little old lady. Come to this side of the carriage, my love; we are just going to pass through a lovely bit of country, and you will like to watch the view. See; if you place yourself here, my sister Agness basket will be just at your feet, and you can help yourself to a queen-cake whenever you are so disposed.
Thank you, responded Hester, in a much more cheerful tone, for it was really quite impossible to keep up reserve with such a bright-looking little old lady; your queen-cakes are very nice, and I liked that one, but one is quite enough, thank you. It is Nan who is so particularly fond of queen-cakes.
And who is Nan, my dear? asked the sister to whom the queen-cakes specially belonged.
She is my dear little baby sister, said Hester in a sorrowful tone.
Ah, and it was about her you were crying just now, said the first lady, laying her hand on Hesters arm. Never mind us, dear, we have seen a great many tears a great many. They are the way of the world. Women are born to them. As Kingsley says women must weep. It was quite natural that you should cry about your sweet little Nan, and I wish we could send her some of these queen-cakes that you say she is so fond of. Are you going to be long away from her, love?