Margaret Maliphant

								

get rid of them.
Of course I did not understand the workings of it at the time, it not
being possible that I should understand the requirements of the case;
but from what I can recollect, gleaned from the scraps of talk that
fell from father and Captain Forrester, I think it was intended to
pick up cases which were not provided for in the ordinary foundling
hospitals, and to rescue those poor wretched little creatures whose
parents were willing to part with them, from a life of sin and
degradation.
The children were to be taught a trade, and were to be honorably placed
in situations when they left the home.
Of course it was a vast scheme--how vast I am sure father cannot have
grasped at the time; but although he must have had grave doubts of the
possibility of its success, he was carried away for the moment by Frank
Forrester's wild enthusiasm upon the subject, and was persuaded by him
to try and put it into immediate practice.
I think he was more drawn to Frank than ever by this. I think he was
drawn to every one who cared for children. But although the captain was
very enthusiastic over this scheme, he found time to look at Joyce and
to sigh for a word from her, for a chance of seeing her alone, and she
would not give it him.
For a whole fortnight after that memorable evening of the squire's ball
she had kept him sighing; at least, I think that she had, and I was
very sorry for him.
To be sure, mother's eyes were vigilant--it needed some bravery to
elude mother's eyes but then I thought that if one wanted a thing very
much one would be brave.
Was Joyce cold-hearted? Was that why her face was so calm and so
beautiful.
But one day, at last, the squire and his nephew came and went away
together, and mother, thinking the visit was over for the day, had gone
out on household errands. I was coming in from taking a parcel of poor
linen to the Vicarage when Deborah met me in the hall.
"That there captain's in with Miss Joyce in the parlor," said she.
"They didn't want no light, they didn't. But I've took 'em in the lamp
just this minute."
She said this with grim determination, and went off grumbling.
Deborah wanted Joyce to marry the squire, and I fancy she suspected me
of furthering her acquaintance with the captain.
I did not go in as Deborah suggested, not until close upon the time
when I was afraid mother would come home.
Joyce was sitting in the big arm-chair with her hands clasped across
her knees, gazing into the fire.
Captain Forrester sat at the old spinet--our best new piano was in
the front parlor--and touched its poor old clanging keys gently, and
sang soft notes to it in his soft, mellow voice. They were passionate
love-songs, as I now know; but the words were in foreign tongues, and
I did not understand them; no doubt Joyce did. He rose when I came in,
and asked what o'clock it was.
I told him, and he laughed his gay, sympathetic laugh, and declared