The Project Gutenberg EBook of Melbourne House, Volume 1, by Susan Warner

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Title: Melbourne House, Volume 1

Author: Susan Warner

Release Date: July 20, 2004 [EBook #12963]

Language: English

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MELBOURNE HOUSE, VOLUME 1 ***

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MELBOURNE HOUSE.

[Illustration: THE OLD IRISH TOMB.]

Melbourne House, Vol. I.

MELBOURNE HOUSE.

BY THE AUTHOR OF THE "WIDE, WIDE WORLD."

"Even a child is known by his doings, whether his work be pure, and whether it be right."—PROV. XX. 11.

VOL. I.

NEW YORK: ROBERT CARTER & BROTHERS, 530 BROADWAY. 1865.

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1864, by

ROBERT CARTER AND BROTHERS,

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the
Southern District of New York.

Stereotyped by SMITH & MCDOUGAL, 82 & 84 Beekman St.

Printed by E.O. JENKINS, 20 North William St.

[Transcriber's note: This edition of the novel was badly typeset in places. Many small errors—missing periods, missing apostrophes, missing closing quotes—have been corrected for reading ease. When the author spelled a word as 'ankle' nine times and 'ancle' twice, occurrences of 'ancle' have been corrected to 'ankle'—and so forth. Other errors, such as the persistent misspelling of 'visitor' as 'visiter', have been left, as these are more likely to represent the author's convictions as to spelling.]

MELBOURNE HOUSE.

CHAPTER I.

A little girl was coming down a flight of stairs that led up from a great hall, slowly letting her feet pause on each stair, while the light touch of her hand on the rail guided her. The very thoughtful little face seemed to be intent on something out of the house, and when she reached the bottom, she still stood with her hand on the great baluster that rested on the marble there, and looked wistfully out of the open door. So the sunlight came in and looked at her; a little figure in a white frock and blue sash, with the hair cut short all over a little round head, and a face not only just now full of some grave concern, but with habitually thoughtful eyes and a wise little mouth. She did not seem to see the sunlight which poured all over her, and lit up a wide, deep hall, floored with marble, and opening at the other end on trees and flowers, which shewed the sunlight busy there too. The child lingered wistfully. Then crossed the hall, and went into a matted, breezy, elegant room, where a lady lay luxuriously on a couch, playing with a book and a leaf-cutter. She could not be busy with anything in that attitude. Nearly all that was to be seen was a flow of lavender silk flounces, a rich slipper at rest on a cushion, and a dainty little cap with roses on a head too much at ease to rest. By the side of the lavender silk stood the little white dress, still and preoccupied as before—a few minutes without any notice.

"Do you want anything, Daisy?"

"Mamma, I want to know something."

"Well, what is it?"

"Mamma"—Daisy seemed to be engaged on a very puzzling question—"what does it mean to be a Christian?"

"What?" said her mother, rousing herself up for the first time to look at her.

"To be a Christian, mamma?"

"It means, to be baptized and go to church, and all that," said the lady, turning back to her book.

"But mamma, that isn't all I mean."

"I don't know what you mean. What has put it into your head?"

"Something Mr. Dinwiddie said."

"What absurd nonsense! Who is Mr. Dinwiddie?"

"You know him. He lives at Mrs. Sandford's."

"And where did he talk to you?"

"In the little school in the woods. In his Sunday-school. Yesterday."

"Well, it's absurd nonsense, your going there. You have nothing to do with such things. Mr. Randolph?—"

An inarticulate sound, testifying that he was attending, came from a gentleman who had lounged in and was lounging through the room.

"I won't have Daisy go to that Sunday-school any more, down there in the woods. Just tell her she is not to do it, will you? She is getting her head full of the most absurd nonsense. Daisy is just the child to be ruined by it."

"You hear, Daisy," said Mr. Randolph, indolently, as he lounged finally out of the room by an open window; which, as did all the windows in the room, served for a door also. By the door by which she had entered, Daisy silently withdrew again, making no effort to change the resolution of either of her parents. She knew it would be of no use; for excessively indulgent as they both were in general, whenever they took it upon them to exercise authority, it was unflinchingly done. Her father would never even hear a supplication to reconsider a judgment, especially if pronounced at the desire of her mother. So Daisy knew.

It was a disappointment, greater than anybody thought or would have guessed, that saw her. She went out to the large porch before the door, and stood there, with the same thoughtful look upon her face, a little cast down now. Still she did not shed tears about the matter, unless one time when Daisy's hand went up to her brow rather quick, it was to get rid of some improper suggestion there. More did not appear, either before or after the sudden crunching of the gravel by a pair of light wheels, and the coming up of a little Shetland pony, drawing a miniature chaise.

"Hollo, Daisy! come along; he goes splendidly!"

So shouted the driver, a boy somewhat bigger than Daisy.

"Where are you going?"

"Anywhere—down to the church, if you'll be quick. Never mind your hat!"

He waited, however, while Daisy dashed into the house and out again, and then stepped into the low chaise beside him. Then the eager intimation was given to the pony, which set off as if knowing that impatience was behind him. The smooth, wide, gravelled road was as good and much better than a plank flooring; the chaise rolled daintily on under the great trees; the pony was not forgetful, yet ever and anon a touch of his owner's whip came to remind him, and the fellow's little body fairly wriggled from side to side in his efforts to get on.

"I wish you wouldn't whip him so!" said Daisy, "he's doing as well as he can."

"What do girls know about driving!" was the retort from the small piece of masculine science beside her.

"Ask papa," said Daisy quietly.

"Well, what do they know about horses, any how!"

"I can see," said Daisy, whose manner of speech was somewhat slow and deliberate, and in the choice of words, like one who had lived among