Janet's Love and Service Part 38

"She is not likely to astonish the world by her wisdom, I should think,"

said he, as he rose to go up-stairs. "Nor Rosie either, for that matter," he added, laughing, and looking back.

"None of us are giving great proof of wisdom just now, I think," said Graeme. "Come, Rosie, Nelly will lose patience if breakfast is kept waiting. Good-night, Harry. Don't sit long."

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

Whether Nelly lost her patience next morning or not, history does not record; but it is a fact that breakfast was late, and late as it was, Rosie did not make her appearance at it. Graeme had still a very pleasant remembrance of the evening; but it was not altogether unmixed.

The late breakfast, the disarrangement of household matters, Rosie's la.s.situde, and her own disinclination to engage in any serious occupation, was some drawback to the remembrance of her enjoyment. All were more or less out of sorts, some from one cause, some from another.

This did not last long, however. The drawback was forgotten, the pleasure was remembered, so that when a day or two afterward, a note came from Mrs Gridley, begging the presence of the brothers and sisters at a small party at her house, nothing was said about refusing. Mrs Gridley had promised some friends from Toronto, a treat of Scottish music, and she would be inconsolable should they disappoint her. But the consolation of Mrs Gridley was not the chief reason of the acceptance. Arthur was to be out of town, but Will was to go in his place. They went, and enjoyed it well; indeed, it was very enjoyable.

Mrs Gridley was a serious person, said her friends, and some, who had no claim to the t.i.tle said the same--the tone and manner making all the difference in the sense of the declaration. She would not for much, have been guilty of giving dancing or card parties in her own house, though by some mysterious process of reasoning, she had convinced herself that she could quite innocently make one of such parties in the houses of other people. So there was only music and conversation, and a simple game or two for the very young people. Graeme and Rosie, and Will too, enjoyed it well. Harry professed to have been bored.

Out of these parties sprang others. Graeme hardly knew how it happened, but the number of their acquaintances greatly increased about this time.

Perhaps it was partly owing to the new partners.h.i.+p entered into by Arthur, with the long-established firm of Black & Company. They certainly owed to this, the sight of several fine carriages at their door, and of several pretty cards in their receiver. Invitations came thick and fast, until an entire change came over their manner of life.

Regular reading was interfered with or neglected. Household matters must have fallen into confusion, if Nelly had not proved herself equal to all emergencies. The long quiet evening at home became the exception. They went out, or some one came in, or there was a lecture or concert, or when the sleighing became good a drive by moonlight.

There were skating parties, and snow-shoeing parties, enough to tire the strongest; and there was no leisure, no quiet time.

Graeme was not long in becoming dissatisfied with this changed, unsettled life. The novelty soon wore off for her, and she became painfully conscious of the attendant evils. Sadly disinclined herself to engage in any serious occupation, she could not but see that with her sister it was even worse. Rose enjoyed all these gay doings much more, and in a way quite different from her; and the succeeding la.s.situde and depression were proportionably greater. Indeed, la.s.situde and depression were quite too gentle terms to apply to the child's sensations, and her disinclination to occupation sometimes manifested itself in an unmistakable approach to peevishness, unless, indeed, the party of the evening was to be followed by the excursion of the day.

Then the evil effects were delayed, not averted. For a time, Graeme made excuses for her to herself and to her brothers; then she did what was much wiser. She determined to put a stop to the cause of so much discomfort. Several circ.u.mstances helped her to this decision, or rather to see the necessity for it. She only hesitated as to the manner in which she was to make her determination known; and while she hesitated, an opportunity to discuss their changed life occurred, and she did not permit it to pa.s.s unimproved.

Christmas and New Year's Day had been past for some weeks, and there was a pause in the festivities of their circle, when a billet of the usual form and purport was left at the door by a servant in livery. Rose, who had seen him pa.s.s the window, had much to do to keep herself quiet, till Nelly had taken it from his hand. She just noticed that it was addressed to Graeme, in time to prevent her from opening it.

"What is it, Graeme?" asked she, eagerly, as she entered the room where her sister was writing. "I am almost sure it was left by Mrs Roxbury's servant. See, there is their crest. What is it? An invitation?"

"Yes," said Graeme, quietly, laying down the note. "For the twenty-seventh."

"Such a long time! It will be a grand affair. We must have new dresses, Graeme."

She took up the note and read:

"Mrs Roxbury's compliments to Miss Elliott."

"Miss Elliott!" she repeated. "Why, Graeme! I am not invited."

"So it seems; but never mind, Rosie. I am not going to accept it."

Rose was indeed crestfallen.

"Oh, you must go, of course. You must not stay at home on my account."

"No; certainly. That is not the reason. Your being invited would have made no difference."

"I could hardly have gone without you," said Rose, doubtfully.

"Certainly not. Neither of us would have gone. If I don't accept this invitation our acquaintance with the Roxburys will perhaps go no further. That would be a sufficient reason for my refusal, if there were no others."

"A sufficient reason for not refusing, I should rather say," said Rose.

"No. There is no good reason for keeping up an acquaintance with so many people. There is no pleasure in it; and it is a great waste of time and strength, and money too, for that matter."

"But Arthur wishes it. He thinks it right."

"Yes, to a certain extent, perhaps, but not at too great a cost. I don't mean of money, though in our circ.u.mstances that is something, too.

But so much going out has been at a great sacrifice of time and comfort to us all. I am tired of it. We won't speak of it now, however; I must finish my letter." For to tell the truth, Rosie's face did not look promising.

"Don't send a refusal till you have spoken to Arthur, Graeme. If he wishes you to go, you ought, you know."

"I am by no means sure of that. Arthur does not very often go to these large parties himself. He does not enjoy them, and I see no reason why I should deny myself, in so bad a cause."

"But Graeme, you have enjoyed some of them, at least. I am sure I have always enjoyed them."

"Yes, I have enjoyed some of them, but I am not sure that it is a right kind of enjoyment. I mean, it may be too dearly bought. And besides, it is not the party, as a party, that I ever enjoy. I have had more real pleasure in some of our quiet evenings at home, with only--only one or two friends, than I ever had at a party, and--, but we won't talk about it now," and she bent over her letter again. She raised her head almost immediately, however.

"And yet, Rosie, I don't know why this is not the best time to say what, for a long time, I have meant to say. We have not been living a good or wise life of late. Do you mind, love, what Janet said to us, the night before we came away? Do you mind the charge she gave us, to keep our garments unspotted till we meet our father and mother again? Do you think, dear, the life of pleasure we have been living, will make us more like what our mother was, more like what our father wished us to be-- more fit to meet them where they are?"

Graeme spoke very earnestly. There were tears in her eyes.

"Graeme," said Rose, "do you think it wrong to go to parties--to dance?

Many good people do not."

"I don't know, love. I cannot tell. It might be right for some people, and yet quite wrong for us. Certainly, if it withdraws our minds from things of importance, or is the cause of our neglecting duty, it cannot be right for us. I am afraid it has been doing this for us all lately."

Rosie looked grave, but did not reply. In a little, Graeme added,--

"I am afraid our last letters have not given much satisfaction to Mrs Snow, Rosie. She seems afraid for us; afraid, lest we may become too much engrossed with the pleasant things about us, and reminds us of the care and watchfulness needed to keep ourselves unspotted from the world."

"But, Graeme, everything is so different in Merleville, Janet cannot know. And, besides--"

"I know, dear; and I would not like to say that we have been doing anything very wrong all this time, or that those who do the same are doing wrong. If we were wiser and stronger, and not so easily influenced for evil, I daresay it would do us no harm. But, Rosie, I am afraid for myself, that I may come to like this idle gay life too much, or, at least, that it may unfit me for a quiet useful life, as our father would have chosen for us, and I am afraid for you, too, dear Rose."

"I enjoy parties very much, and I can't see that there is any harm in it," said Rosie, a little crossly.

"No, not in enjoying them, in a certain way, and to a certain extent.

But, Rose, think how dreadful, to become 'a lover of pleasure.' Is there no danger do you think, love?"

Rose hung her head, and was silent. Graeme went on,--

"My darling, there is danger for you--for me--for us all. How can we ever hope to win Harry from the society of those who do him harm, when we are living only to please ourselves?"

"But, Graeme, it is better that we should all go together--I mean Harry is more with us than he used to be. It must be better."

"I don't know, dear. I fear it is only a change of evils. Harry's temptation meets him even with us. And, oh! Rosie, if our example should make it easier for Harry to go astray! But we won't speak about Harry. I trust G.o.d will keep him safe. I believe He will."

Though Graeme tried to speak calmly, Rose saw that she trembled and grew very white.

"At any rate, Rose, we could not hope that G.o.d would hear our prayers for Harry, or for each other, if we were living in a way displeasing to Him. For it is not well with us, dear. We need not try to hide it from ourselves. We must forget the last few troubled months, and begin again. Yes, we must go farther back than that, Rosie," said Graeme, suddenly rising, and putting her arms about her sister. "Do you mind that last night, beside the two graves? How little worth all seemed to us then, except to get safe home together. Rosie! I could not answer for it to our father and mother if we were to live this troubled life long. My darling! we must begin again."