Girlhood and Womanhood | Page 8

no wonder papa monopolizes you. I will be so glad that Susie
has the pearls. Such a pity, poor dear! that her evening should be spoilt,
and they lying ready to be put on. Conny? Yes, indeed, that girl will be
getting spine complaint, or the rickets. In my day it was sewing in
frames that twisted girls; but these books in the lap, the head poked
forward, one shoulder up, and knees half as high as the shoulder, are a
thousand times worse."
"Good luck to you, Jack. Now you deserve your name, since you

constitute yourself groom of the chambers to your sisters."
Joanna laughed back to him. "Come and meet us, papa." And in the
shortest interval given to tie on their hats and skirts, the girls were
racing along to Hurlton.
In that moorland country, with outlying moorland fields where it was
not primitive nature--in a large family like that of the Crawfurds, rough
walking ponies swarmed as in Shetland. They were in constant request
at the Ewes, and the girls rode them lightly and actively, with the
table-boy, Sandy, at their heels, as readily as they walked. Perhaps
Joanna was the least given to the practice, though she availed herself of
it on this domestic occasion.
Joanna was a deception, as her mother said. She was a little, round, soft
thing, whom you would have expected to flash over with sunshine. She
was not a melancholy girl--as you may have been able to judge--and it
was not her blame that anything in her position had developed her into
a thoughtful, earnest character. But then she was always fancied
younger than she really was; people supposed her as easy as her mother,
while she could be vehement, and was firm to tenacity. Perhaps the
reason of the puzzle might be, not only that she had a little of that
constitutional indolence which serves to conceal latent energy, but that,
in trifles, she did inherit, in a marked degree, the unexacting, kindly
temper which causes the wheels of every-day life to turn easily. She
allowed herself to be pushed aside. She accepted the fate or superstition
which linked her with her father's sorrow; she was content, she thought,
to suffer the dregs of his act with him; she wished she could suffer for
him; the connexion had indeed a peculiar charm for her enthusiasm and
generosity, like her admiration of this Corncockle Moor.
Corncockle Moor, in its dreariness, loneliness, and wildness, now hung
out a vast curtain, which Joanna and Conny were skirting under the
golden decline of day, not so far from the spot where the little group of
men had gathered on the autumn morning, and the two sharp, short
cracks, and the little curl of blue smoke had indicated where one life
had gone out, and another was blasted in a single second. Joanna had
scarcely got time to wonder how Harry Jardine and her sisters would

look at each other, and she did not allow herself to think of it now. She
would wait till she had skilfully avoided any chance of encountering
the company, delivered her mother's errand, and was safe with Conny,
cantering homewards. Even then she would not dwell on the notion,
lest her father should allude to the stranger, and she should betray any
feeling to discompose him. "I must take care of papa. Papa is my
charge," repeated Joanna, proud as any Roman maid or matron.
What malign star sent Mrs. Maxwell into the bedroom, just as Joanna
had entered it? She ought to have been only quitting the dining-room
for the drawing-room, but Mrs. Maxwell was always to be found where
she was least expected. She was a good-natured, social, blundering
body, whom girls condescended to affect, because she liberally
patronized young people, proving, however, quite as often the marplot,
as the maker of their fortunes--not from malice, but from a certain
maladroitness and fickleness. Mrs. Maxwell took it into her head to lay
hands on Joanna, and to send out for Conny, whom Joanna had
cautiously deposited in the paddock, and to insist that they should
remain, and join the party. She would take no denial; she never got
them all together; it was so cruel to leave out Joanna and Conny, a pair
of her adopted children, since she had no bairns of her own to bless
herself with. She had plenty of partners, or the girls would dance
together. Yes, say no more about it; she was perfectly delighted with
the accession to her number--it was to be.
Conny's eyes sparkled greedily. "Oh, Joanna! mamma won't be angry."
Oh, Conny! you traitor!
"There, it will be a treat to Conny, and there is nothing to prevent it.
Conny has let the cat out of the bag,