Thistle and Rose by Amy Walton (sci fi books to read .txt) 📖

thought--the picnic!

In her anxiety she had forgotten it. Anna might have started before Dr Hunt's note got to Waverley. Even then, though, she said to herself, she must be home by now. So she ran on again, and half an hour later she was on her way back over the darkening fields--without Anna. She had gone to the picnic, and she knew the Professor was ill! Once Delia would have felt angry; now there was only room in her heart for one thought: "He will be disappointed, and he will not sleep to-night."

The church clock struck nine as she entered the High Street in Dornton, and the same sound fell faintly on Anna's ears on her way back from Alderbury. The picnic had been over long ago, but, shortly after the party started to return, one of the horses lost a shoe; the carriage in which Anna was had to proceed at a slow walk for the rest of the distance, and it would be very late before she could reach Waverley.

No accident, however, could damp her spirits, or those of her companions. It was all turned into amusement and fun. The whole day had been more delightful than any Anna had known. It was over now, that delightful day, and she gave a little sigh of regret to think that she was at the end of it instead of at the beginning. The one shadow which had fallen across the brightness of it, had been cast by the substantial figure of Mrs Winn, whom she had seen in the distance now and then. Once she had noticed her in earnest conversation with Mrs Palmer, and thought that they had both looked in her direction, but it had been easy to avoid contact with her amongst so many people. It had not spoiled her enjoyment then; but now, her excitement a little cooled down, unpleasant thoughts began to make themselves heard.

Here was the Rectory at last! Anna burst into the drawing-room, her fair hair falling in confusion over her shoulders, a large bundle of foxgloves in her arms, her cheeks bright with the cool night breeze.

"Oh, aunt!" she exclaimed, "we've had such a lovely, lovely day. Why didn't you come?"

"You're very late, my dear Anna," said Mrs Forrest, gravely. "I expected you more than an hour ago."

Anna explained the reason of her delay.

"Alderbury is the most perfect place," she repeated. "Why didn't you come?"

"It's very unlucky that you should be late," said Mrs Forrest. "Delia has been over asking for you."

Anna's face fell. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "My grandfather! Is he worse?"

"I don't think so. And from what I learned from Dr Hunt, he is not at all seriously ill. But he was restless, Delia said, and wanted to see you to-night."

"To see me," said Anna. She let her flowers fall in a heap on the ground. "Oh, Aunt Sarah, I wish I had not gone to the picnic!"

"Now, my dear Anna, that is foolish. You shall go to Dornton early to-morrow, and no doubt you will find Mr Goodwin better. Remember that there is no cause for anxiety, and though the accident of your being late was very unfortunate, it could not be avoided."

Aunt Sarah's composed words were reassuring. Probably her grandfather was not very ill, Anna thought; but oh, why had she gone to the picnic, and what would Delia say?

These last words were in her mind again next morning, as she arrived at Number 4 Back Row, and stood waiting to be let in. The little house looked very sad and silent, as though it knew its master was ill. Presently the door opened a very little way, and the long, mournful face of Mrs Cooper appeared. When she saw who it was she put her finger on her lip, and then said in a loud, hoarse whisper, "I'll call Miss Delia."

Anna was left outside. She felt frightened. Why did Mrs Cooper look so grave? Perhaps grandfather was very ill after all!

It seemed ages before the door opened again, and when it did, it was Delia who stood there. She did not look at all angry, but her face was very sad.

"He has had a very bad night," she whispered, "but now he is sleeping. He must not be disturbed. You had better come later."

That was all. The door was gently shut again, and Anna stood outside. As she turned away, her eyes filled with tears. Yesterday her grandfather had wanted her, and she had not gone--to-day the door was shut. He must be very ill, she felt sure, whatever Aunt Sarah might say. His kind, gentle face came before her, as she made her way along-- always kind, never with any reproach in it. How could she have gone to the picnic, and left him to ask for her in vain?

As she reached the place where the pony-cart waited for her, Isabel Palmer came out of a shop. She looked at her with a sort of cold surprise.

"Oh, Anna," she said, "how is Mr Goodwin? We only heard yesterday he was ill. I was going to his house to ask after him."

"Dr Hunt says there is no cause for anxiety," said Anna, repeating the sentence she had so often heard from Aunt Sarah.

"It was Mrs Winn who told mother he was ill," continued Isabel, observing Anna's downcast face curiously, "and--she said another thing which surprised us all very much. Why didn't you tell us long ago that Mr Goodwin is your grandfather?"

Anna was silent.

"We can't understand it at all," continued Isabel. "Mother says it might have caused great unpleasantness. She's quite vexed."

She waited a moment with her eyes fixed on Anna, and then said, with a little toss of her head:

"Well--good-bye. I suppose we shan't meet again before we go to Scotland. Mother has written to tell Mrs Forrest that we're not going on with lessons."

They parted with a careless shake of the hands, and Anna was driven away in the pony-cart. Her friendship with Isabel, her pleasant visits to Pynes, were over now. She was humbled and disgraced before every one, and Delia would know it too. It would have been a wounding thought once, but now there was no room in her heart for any feeling but dread of what might happen to Mr Goodwin.

"Oh, Aunt Sarah," she cried, when she reached Waverley, and found her aunt in the garden, "I'm sure my grandfather is worse--I'm sure he's very ill. I did not see him."

Mrs Forrest was tying up a rebellious creeper, which wished to climb in its own way instead of hers. She finished binding down one of the unruly tendrils before she turned to look at her niece. Anna was flushed. Her eyelids were red and swollen.

"Why didn't you see him?" she asked. "Does Dr Hunt think him worse?"

"I don't know," said Anna. "I only saw Delia for a minute. He was asleep. I am to go again. Oh, Aunt Sarah," with a burst of sobs, "I do wish I had not gone to the picnic. I wish I had behaved better to my grandfather. I wish--"

Mrs Forrest laid her hand kindly on Anna's shoulder.

"My dear," she said, "you distress yourself without reason. We can rely on Dr Hunt's opinion that your grandfather only needs rest. Sleep is the very best thing for him. When you go this evening, you will see how foolish you have been. Meanwhile, try to exercise some self-control; occupy yourself, and the time will soon pass."

She turned to her gardening again, and Anna wandered off alone. Aunt Sarah's calm words had no comfort in them. Delia's severest rebuke, even Mrs Winn's plain speech, would have been better. She went restlessly up to her bedroom, seeking she hardly knew what. Her eye fell on the little brown case, long unopened, which held her mother's portrait. Words, long unthought of, came back to her as she looked at it.

"If you are half as good and beautiful," her father had said; and on the same day what had been Miss Milverton's last warning? "Try to value the best things."

"Oh," cried Anna to herself as she looked at the pure, truthful eyes of the picture, "if I only could begin again! But now it's all got so wrong, it can never, never be put right!"

After a while, she went into the garden again, and avoiding Mrs Forrest, crossed the little foot-bridge leading into the field, and sat down on the gate. The chimneys of Leas Farm in the distance made her think of Daisy, and the old days when they had first met, and she had been so full of good resolves. Daisy, and the good resolves, and Delia too, seemed all to have vanished together. She had no friends now. Every one had deserted her, and she had deserved it!

She was sitting during those reflections with her face buried in her hands, and presently was startled by the sound of a little voice behind her.

"What's the matter?" it said.

It was Daisy Oswald, who had come through the garden, and now stood on the bridge close to her, a basket of eggs in her hand, and her childish, freckled face full of wonder and sympathy.

Generally, Anna would have been ashamed to be seen in distress, and would have tried to hide it, but now she was too miserable to mind anything. She hid her face in her hands again, without answering Daisy's question.

"Has some one been cross?" inquired Daisy at last.

Anna shook her head. Her heart ached for sympathy even from Daisy, though she could not speak to her, and she hoped she would not go away just yet.

"Have you hurt yourself?" proceeded Daisy.

Again the same sign.

"Have you done something naughty? I did something very naughty once."

Seeing that Anna did not shake her head this time, she added, in her condescending little tone:

"If you like, I'll come and sit beside you, and tell you all about it."

She put her basket of eggs very carefully on the ground, and placed herself comfortably by Anna's side.

"It was a very naughty thing _I_ did," she began, in a voice of some enjoyment, "worse than yours, I expect. It was a year ago, and one of our geese was sitting, and mother said she wasn't to be meddled with nohow. And the white Cochin-china hen was sitting too, and"--Daisy paused to give full weight to the importance of the crime, and opened her eyes very wide, "and--I changed 'em! I carried the goose and put her on the hen's nest, and she forsook it, and the hen forsook hers, and the eggs were all addled! Mother _was_ angry! She said it wasn't the eggs she minded so much as the disobedience. Was yours worse than that?"

"Much, much worse," murmured Anna.

Daisy made a click with her tongue to express how shocked she felt at this idea.

"Have