Girlhood and Womanhood | Page 3

mark passionately,
and carried the child oftenest in his arms, and let her sit longest on his
knee; and so she became his darling, and learnt all his ways, and could
suit herself to his fancies, and soothe his pains, from very youthful
years. The public recognised this peculiar property of her father in
Joanna, and identified her with the sorrowful period of his history. She
was pointed out in connexion with the story--the tragedy of the
county,--and she knew instinctively that there would be a whispered
reference to her whenever it was told in society.
The Crawfurds had a cousin visiting them--an English cousin, Polly

Musgrave--from the luxury and comparative gaiety of her rich,
childless aunt's house in York. Polly was a well-endowed orphan, had
no near family ties, and had been educated in the worldly wisdom and
epicurean philosophy of a fashionable girls' school. She had come to
spend a few weeks, and get acquainted with her Scotch country cousins.
Polly had not found her heart, but it was to the credit of her sense and
good-nature that she made the very best of a sojourn that had
threatened to be a bore to her. She dazzled the girls, she romped with
the boys, she entered with the greatest glee into rural occupations, rode
on the roughest pony, saw sunset and sunrise from Barnbougle, and
threatened to learn to milk cows and cut corn. She brought
inconceivable motion and sparkle into the rather stagnant country
house, and she was the greatest possible contrast to Joanna Crawfurd.
Joanna was a natural curiosity to Polly, and the study amused her, just
as she made use of every other variety and novelty, down to the
poultry-yard and kitchen-garden at the Ewes.
The girls were out on the moor, in the drowsy heat of a summer day,
grouped idly and prettily into such a cluster as girls will fall into
without effort. Susan, the beauty--there is always a beauty among
several girls--in languid propriety, with her nice hair, and her
scrupulously falling collar and sleeves, and her blush of a knot of
ribbon; Lilias, the strong-minded, active person, sewing busily at
charity work, of which all estimable households have now their share;
Constantia, the half-grown girl, lying in an awkward lump among the
hay, intently reading her last novel, and superlatively scorning the
society of her grown-up relatives; Joanna, sitting thoughtfully, stroking
old Gyp, the ragged terrier, that invariably ran after either Joanna or her
father; and Polly, who had been riding with Oliver, standing with her
tucked-up habit, picturesque hat and feathers, smart little gentleman's
riding-gloves and whip, and very espiègle face--a face surrounded by
waves of silky black hair, with a clear pale skin, and good eyes and
teeth, which Polly always declared were her fortune in the way of good
looks; but her snub nose was neither of a vulgar nor coarse tendency--it
was a very lively, coquettish, handsomely cut, irresistible cock nose.
If these girls on the moor had been tried in the fire heated seven times,

it would not have been to the strong-minded, broad-chested,
dark-browed Lilias that they would have clung. They would have come
crouching in their extremity and taken hold of the skirt of round, soft,
white Joanna, with the little notable stain on her temple.
Polly was detailing her adventures and repeating her news with a relish
that was appetizing.
"We went as far as Lammerhaugh, when Oliver remembered that he
had a commission for your father at Westcotes, just when my love,
Punch, was broken off his trot, and promised to canter, and the morning
was so fresh then--a jewel of a morning. It was provoking; I wanted
Noll to continue absent in mind, or prove disobedient, or something,
but you good folks are so conscientious."
"Duty first, and then pleasure," said Lilias emphatically.
"That was a Sunday-school speech, Lilias, and spoken out of school;
you ought to pay a forfeit; fine her, Susie."
"Aren't you hot, Polly?" asked Susan, without troubling herself to take
up the jest.
"Not a bit--no more than you are; I'm up to a great deal yet; I'll go to
the offices and gather the eggs. No, I am warm though, and I don't want
to be blowsy to-night; I think I'll go into the house to the bath-room,
and have a great icy splash of a shower-bath."
"You'll hurt your health, Polly, for ever bathing at odd hours, as you
do," remonstrated Joanna.
"All nonsense, my dear; I always do what is pleasantest, and it agrees
with me perfectly. In winter, I do toast my toes; and you know I eat
half-a-dozen peaches and plums at a time like a South Sea Islander,
only I believe they feast on cocoa-nut and breadfruit; don't they, Conny?
You are the