The Two Guardians: or, Home in This WorldYonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
General
The Two Guardians: or, Home in This World
Yonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
Fiction
Her own pleasure,--that she enjoyed but little, and less now than ever,
for her time was never her own. There was Lionel on her hands almost
every day, to be read to, or walked with; and if he went out with his
father, or spent an hour in his mother's room, there was Clara wanting
her quite as much, for gossip, exercise, or consultation. Mrs. Lyddell,
too, must be visited; for though Marian was not the most beloved,
or most welcome person in the world, yet a change of society and
conversation was desirable, both for her sake and Clara's; so more
than two hours every day were spent in her sitting-room. Then, in the
evening, Marian's thoughts and ears must be free for Mr. Lyddell and
Lionel. All her own pursuits were at an end, she had hardly touched a
pencil the whole year, nor opened a German book, nor indeed any book,
excepting what she read to Lionel, and these were many. She was very
seldom able to enjoy the luxury of being alone; she could hardly even
write her letters, except by sitting up for them; and even the valuable
hour before midnight was not certain to be her own, for if Clara had no
other time to pour out her cares, she used to come then, and linger in
her cousin's room, reiterating petty perplexities, endless in detail.
How delightful to escape from all this, to quietness, peace, freedom
from her own cares and other people's,--Fern Torr air and scenery,
Edmund and Agnes for companions, and liberty to teach school children,
go about among her own people, do good in her own way, and enjoy her own
studies. It was like a captive longing to be set free,--a wanderer in
sight of home.
But the captive paused on the threshold of the dungeon; the wanderer
stood still on the brow of the last hill. Marian paced up and down her
own room, and thought and reasoned half aloud,--
"Sweet is the smile of home, the mutual look,
When hearts are of each other sure;
Sweet all the joys that crown the household nook,
The haunt of all affections pure:
Yet in the world even these abide, and we
Above the world our calling boast."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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