CHAPTER I.

Standing back beside the picturesque road encircling Windburg hill, near Cape Town, was a large, handsome house, rather long and high, however, according to the style of architecture usual in that stormy region of the world. The front windows on the ground floor opened out upon a broad terrace, or "stoop," as it is termed by the Dutch, shaded by a wide projecting trellised roof, which roof was so thickly interlaced by vines of the rich Constantia grape, the branches being then clustered over with massive bunches of the golden and purple fruit, that it was with difficulty the sun[Pg 4] obtained a peep here and there down upon the persons beneath.

It was early in February, a late summer month in Africa, as some of my young readers may know. The grounds surrounding the house were extensive and varied, and laid out in the Cape fashion—that is to say, they owed considerably more to Southern nature's luxuriant hand for their attractiveness and abundance than to art. Such a state of things was not, however, so much the result of choice or taste of the inhabitants, as because gardeners, and indeed working hands of every kind, were sometimes impossible to obtain at any price. One advantage, and a very decided one in fresh English eyes, accrues from this style of semi-cultivation. Flowers alike rare and prized in our costly green-houses, but regarded by the Cape inhabitants as valueless, display a richness of bloom and splendour little conceived of by the natives of colder climes.

On a bright and beautiful morning (though[Pg 5] indeed the reverse of that is the exception during the summer season at the Cape) a girl of between fifteen and sixteen years of age was ascending the broad staircase which half encircled the spacious hall within the above-mentioned house. The sunshine streamed in softened rays through the coloured panes of a high arched window, surrounding her form as an island in golden light as she passed. It was a charming face and figure, and a thoughtful yet bright expression seemed to pervade her whole person, filling it with love and intelligence.

"Oh how pleasant! all day long! how glad Lotty will be! I am sure she will. Dear, kind uncle! he always thinks of something good and delightful for every one," she ejaculated half aloud while speeding up the stairs, then along a wide passage, and finally opening the door of a bedroom at the farther end. Seated on the side of a bed was a fine but rather heavy-looking girl some two years senior of the first. Judging from her appearance, she had but just risen, for she[Pg 6] was still clad only in a wrapper, while an abundant growth of fair hair, released from the cap which lay on the floor beside her stockingless feet, fell dishevelled upon her shoulders. Altogether, she presented a very impersonation of youthful indolence as she sat there, one hand supporting her elbow, while lazily she passed the other over her still sleepy-looking face.

"Oh, you are not up yet!" exclaimed her visitor, stopping short inside the door and eyeing the drowsy form before her with a disappointed expression.

"If I am not up, what am I?" she retorted, yawning audibly.

"I mean, you are not dressed yet."

"Have you come up here for the express purpose of giving me that undeniable piece of information?"

"Oh no," answered the other, quickly, as suddenly she bethought herself again of her pleasant news, and with recovered cheerfulness came close to her sister. "Uncle is going to take us with aunty to spend all[Pg 7] to-day at Rathfelder's Hotel!—won't that be charming?—and all night, too, returning home to-morrow morning! Oh, isn't that nice?"

"Well, I don't see anything so particularly nice or charming in it," answered Charlotte in a wet-blanket sort of tone that very considerably quenched the light in the sweet, bright face before her.

"Don't you, Lotty? why not?"

"Oh, you will find out fast enough for yourself when there; do not tease me about it now, but go and send Susan here at once; I have been wanting her this last half hour or more."

"Last half hour? Why didn't you ring for her?"

"There! don't ask any more questions, Mechie, you are such a tiresome girl at that!" exclaimed Charlotte, impatiently; "go—do—and tell Susan to come to me; if you delay any longer it will be your fault if I'm late, and I shall get a scolding in consequence." So away went the young girl, wearing a[Pg 8] very different aspect from that she presented when first we introduced her amidst sunbeams and smiles on the stairs.

In a pleasant room, the folding windows of which allowed egress upon the vine-covered stoop—and which windows were now wide open, admitting the fresh breeze from the in-coming ocean tide, the waters of the great Pacific, whose sparkling waves were tumbling and leaping toward the base of the Windburg far beneath—three persons sat at breakfast, Mr. and Mrs. Rossiter, middle-aged and of benevolent aspect, and our little friend Maria Marlow, or Mechie, as that name is given by the Dutch. Uncle and, aunt were mere nominal appellations, adopted by the two girls according to the wish of their kind benefactors, Mr. and Mrs. Rossiter, but no relationship existed between them.

Major Marlow quitted the army and India to become a settler in Cape Colony, and with his young wife and children—Charlotte and[Pg 9] Maria—arrived in Cape Town during what was to him the inclement season of winter. Unhappily, his constitution, already injured by long service in hot climates, gave way before the sudden change, and in one month he died of inflammation of the lungs. His equally delicate wife, who loved him tenderly, sank under her severe loss, and in a few months followed him to the grave, but not before she had, through the goodness of God, found true Christian friends in Mr. and Mrs. Rossiter, to whom she trustfully consigned the possession and care of her little girls, then two and four years of age. Being themselves childless, they willingly accepted the charge, and in time loved the poor orphans as dearly as though they were their own by birth.

Though reared with equal care and love, the two children, as they advanced in years, displayed characters and dispositions of such opposite tendencies that their noble-hearted benefactors might have experienced as much vexation and disappointment in the apparent[Pg 10] failure of their hopes on the one hand as gratification with their success on the other, had they not based their judgment of human nature upon the unerring word of God, which tells of the strange inconsistencies, singular varieties, perversities and inborn depravity of the souls of men. Happily, however, for all those under the influence and control of these excellent, right-thinking people, they had great faith in the influence of Christian training and the power of divine grace. They remembered the promises attached to patient and prayerful sowing the seed, the fruit of which would appear in God's right time. So they kept the ancient precept: "These words shall be in thine heart, and thou shalt teach them diligently unto thy children; and shalt talk of them

when thou sittest in thine house, and when thou walkest by the way, and when thou liest, down, and when thou risest up." In such a home were Charlotte and Maria Marlow reared.

But having introduced my readers thus far[Pg 11] to Fern Bank and its inhabitants, I will withdraw, and allow Maria Marlow to continue this little history in her own simple way.

[Pg 12]

CHAPTER II.

Circumstances had prevented my going to Rathfelder's Hotel (my young readers will understand it is Maria Marlow who now speaks) when, on a former occasion, Charlotte had been taken there, and I was gleefully chatting away to uncle and aunt of the anticipated pleasure as the former at last made her appearance.

"Oh, Lotty, Lotty, my child, how comes it about that you are again so late for breakfast?" aunty said, more in a tone of kindness than reproof, as she raised her face to receive the customary kiss which we always bestowed upon both our guardians when first greeting them in the morning; "you promised that for the future you would endeavour to be earlier."

"Yes, and it's all Susan's fault that I have[Pg 13] not kept my promise this morning, aunty. I was out of bed, waiting for her to come and get me my bath, for nearly—" Here Charlotte, meeting uncle's eyes, suddenly checked herself, remembering how greatly he and aunt disapproved of an exaggerated style of speaking. The real truth was, as Susan had told me, that about eight or ten minutes had elapsed between the time of my looking into the bed-room to see if Lotty was up, which she was not, and my sending her there; and even that time need not have been wasted had Charlotte taken the trouble to ring her bell. "For a long while, at any rate," she continued. "Mechie came and found me sitting on the bedside—didn't you, Mechie?—and stared at me as though I had been a ghost," she concluded, sinking indolently into her chair.

I was glad to take refuge in a light laugh instead of further answer, knowing how little the case admitted of any reply likely to prove satisfactory to Charlotte. To my relief, also, uncle covered my silence by saying gently:

[Pg 14]

"Do not forget your grace, my dear girl. Let us always bear in mind from whose gracious hand it is we receive every blessing we enjoy, and be grateful with our hearts and thankful with our lips."

Charlotte directly stood up, and silently bent her fair head for a few seconds, and again resumed her seat. Aunt Rossiter did not at that time farther press the point on the subject of late rising. She detected, by our manner, that something was wrong, but, as was her custom on like occasions—that is, whenever the matter in hand seemed taking a zigzag course instead of the straight road of truth—she delayed speaking until such time as more favourable circumstances or a better state of feeling in the delinquent rendered it judicious to do so.

The breakfast was nearly concluded as Charlotte came in, and soon after Uncle Rossiter rose to quit the room. In passing her chair he affectionately laid his hand on her head, saying, gravely, "In being down so late, my child, mark, what are the [Pg 15]consequences: first and principally, you have missed the prayer and chapter in the Bible; secondly, the meal is nearly over, therefore all is cold and comfortless; thirdly, you have vexed your good, kind aunt, to say nothing of myself, and now you must hasten, for the carriage will be at the door by ten, as we must not lose the cool part of the day for driving."

"Oh no, we will all manage to be ready by then, I am sure," rejoined Aunt Rossiter, cheerfully.

"Yes, we are sure to be ready, dear uncle," I cried, more warmly, perhaps, than I might otherwise have spoken. But my heart longed to say something to brighten his kind face, which was just then looking unusually grave, and Charlotte's general expression did not at that moment promise much in the way of concession. She seemed altogether too greatly disconcerted by the comfortless aspect of the breakfast-table to heed anything else.

Uncle smiled affectionately upon me, his fine, benevolent eyes kindling as he did so.

[Pg 16]

"Bear in mind what I am saying to you, my dear Lotty, when Susan calls you of a morning," he continued, again looking down on Charlotte; "remember that a sluggard in body is sure to be a sluggard in soul; remember that to win that prize which is above all price you must be active and energetic; remember what St. Paul says about those that strive or run to obtain a corruptible crown, and how he speaks of incorruptible. 'So run that ye may obtain.'"

Uncle then left the room without waiting for an answer, reiterating his request, however, as he went out, that we would be in time.

"Oh yes, dear uncle, depend upon it we will," I again repeated.

"Speak for yourself, Mechie, and don't undertake to answer for others," Lotty said in a quiet, half-sulky voice; "I will not promise by any means to be ready by ten, seeing I have only just begun my breakfast, and have, as you know, a very particular objection to being hurried over my meals."

[Pg 17]

"If you are not ready by the time your uncle wishes to start, my dear Lotty, we shall be under the unpleasant necessity of going without you," answered Aunt Rossiter in a tone so serious and firm that Charlotte did not attempt to dispute it, and silently continued her breakfast. Aunt then left the room. How much I wished that Charlotte would eat with a little less deliberation! At this rate of proceeding, I thought, she certainly never can or will be ready by ten.

"Perhaps, while you are finishing—" I began, when she interrupted me, sharply:

"I beg to observe that I am only just beginning."

"Well, then, perhaps more correctly speaking, while you are eating your breakfast, had I not better run up and tell Susan what we are going to wear, that she may get all ready for us, so as not to lose time?"

"Do as you like."

"What shall she put out for you?"

"I don't know; I've not thought about it."

[Pg 18]

"Oh, but do think about it, Lotty, please do," I urged, coaxingly; "I am certain to be ready myself, but there is so little time now left, I fear, unless you hurry more, you will not be dressed when the carriage comes to the door, and oh, I can't say how vexed I should be to go without you."

"The vexation will all be on your side, then; I should not care a bit."

"Oh, Lotty, is it a matter of such indifference to you whether uncle and aunt are distressed by your behaviour, to say nothing of me?"

"If uncle chooses to fix the time of our destination at so unreasonably early an hour, he must care very little whether I come or not, and therefore is not likely to feel much distress one way or the other, and as aunt quite seconded him, she, of course, thinks the same."

"But, Lotty, you know that everybody who can manage it sets off as early as that, or sooner, when they have a long drive before them; besides, the principal point is to[Pg 19] secure a good long day at Rathfelder's. However, I must not waste time in talking, but run and get everything as forward as circumstances will admit of."

"Pray do; it will be quite a relief to be rid of you in your present worrying mood," replied Charlotte, coldly.

I had an uncomfortable misgiving in my heart that Charlotte's more than indifference to the expedition, together with her unhappy fit of ill-humour (which, to do her justice, was not a kind of temper of frequent occurrence in her), would unite in rendering her so careless about coming that the carriage would be at the door before she had even quitted the breakfast-table. So I hurried up stairs and ran to lay the case, with as much consideration for Lotty as it admitted of, before our kind old nurse and good, sensible friend, Susan Bridget.

[Pg 20]

CHAPTER III.

A truly worthy old body was our nurse, Susan Bridget. Stern and hard of visage, firm and determined in disposition and of unpolished though perfectly respectful manners, she was nevertheless peculiarly sweet tempered, and possessed as kind a heart as ever beat within woman's breast. She had been our nurse from the period of our first becoming inmates of Fern Bank, and each year that passed her simple piety, fidelity and unaffected good sense raised her higher and higher in uncle and aunt's esteem. Although not exactly adapted to the position of lady's maid, aunt would not dismiss her as we grew older, feeling secure that in her was united to the duties of an orderly, industrious servant the true thoughtful care and anxiety of a Christian friend, and that she was, [Pg 21]therefore, well fitted for an attendant upon two growing up, motherless girls like ourselves. Susan was certainly an old-fashioned and not always very grammatical speaker, but that seemed, I always thought, to enhance yet more the spirit and truth of her admonitions, of

which she was very unsparing toward her nurslings when she considered them needed. I liked her quaint matter-of-fact mode of speech far better than many a more elegant style, for it brought her directly to the point with a kind of rough eloquence that at once struck at the understanding, leaving the delinquent no excuse to stand upon. She was quick and just in her perception of character, and altogether peculiarly fitted to deal with so capricious and whimsical a young damsel as dear, humoursome Charlotte. To say the truth, too, the latter, if she did not entertain more respect for the opinions and scoldings of nurse Susan, as she continued to be called, was greatly more afraid of her than of our gentle and kind guardians.

"I can't think, not I, why it is Miss Lotty[Pg 22] will be always so contrary in her ways!" Susan exclaimed after listening with a disapproving face to my modified account of the morning's contretemps; "what's the good of it? can she tell me that? She gains nothing and loses a deal; she spoils the pleasure to herself of almost everything she does by her whimsies and silly tempers, and makes other folks uncomfortable too. She doesn't see how ugly and unpleasant it makes her in the eyes of her fellow-creatures, spoiling her looks and her manners, but more and worse than that, how sinful it makes her in the sight of God."

"I am so afraid," interposed I, "that she does not intend going at all to-day, Susan."

"Not going at all!" repeated Susan in a voice of stern amazement, stopping short in her preparations for our dressing and staring at me.

"She says it is too early to go, and she will not hurry herself," I replied.

"Not hurry herself! that's a pretty way of talking, and it's her uncle and aunt as wants her!" and Susan hastened from the[Pg 23] room and down stairs, saying, as she went, "I'll just give her a bit of my mind, that's what I'll do."

Now, in what that bit of mind consisted I did not know exactly, though I pretty well guessed. Its administration proved much more speedily efficacious, however, than the bits of mind which aunt and I had bestowed upon Miss Lotty, for in a wonderfully short space of time up she came, with a rather depressed head and considerably subdued look, albeit a half-rebellious expression still lurked in her eyes and round the corners of her handsome mouth. Close behind followed Susan Bridget with very much the air of a schoolmaster bringing back some runaway scholar, her tall, bony figure more than usually straight, stiff and determined. To have seen her at that moment any one would have thought her one of the most relentless tyrants in the world. Poor, dear, soft-hearted Susan!

There was but brief while for dressing, and no time was now lost on superfluous words.[Pg 24] Susan, without waiting to extract the half-sulky, reluctant replies from Charlotte as to whether she did or did not approve certain articles of dress, unhesitatingly selected such as she herself chose for the occasion, and without ceremony put them upon Lotty, hastening her movements and utterly disregarding her pettish complaints and discontented looks. So it was, therefore, that when the carriage came to the door, and uncle and aunt were ready, to my great joy Charlotte was ready too—ready in fact a few minutes before myself, I not having had the advantage of Susan's assistance. Just lingering a moment as Lotty left the room to press a warm kiss of farewell and glad thanks for her successful management of the former on good old Susan's hard cheek, I sped down stairs after my sister, and we were soon on our way to Rathfelder's Hotel.

[Pg 25]

CHAPTER IV.