Produced by floofles, sp1nd and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)
[Illustration: "They shouted and cheered; then Mr. Trelawny put his hand on her head." Page 310. _Esther's Charge._]
AUTHOR OF "SQUIB AND HIS FRIENDS," "THE YOUNG PIONEERS," "IN THE DAYS OF CHIVALRY," ETC, ETC.
I. A Little Manager, 1 II. The Boys, 26 III. An Anxious Charge, 52 IV. The Sweets of Freedom, 78 V. At the Crag, 104 VI. The Shorn Sheep, 130 VII. Days of Sunshine, 156 VIII. The City of Refuge, 182 IX. The Magician's Cave, 208 X. Confessions, 234 XI. Mr. Trelawny, 262 XII. A New Charge, 291
"I think she's at the linen-press, marm, putting away the things from the wash."
"Tell her to come to me when she has done that. I want to speak to her."
"Yes, marm, I will. Can I do anything else for you?"
"No, thank you. I have all I want. But send Miss Esther to me quickly."
Mrs. St. Aiden was lying on a couch in a very pretty, dainty, little room, which opened upon a garden, blazing with late spring and early summer flowers. The lawn was still green, and looked like velvet, and the beds and borders of flowers were carefully tended, as could be seen at a glance. The gravel paths were rolled and weeded, and everything was in exquisite order, both within and without the house. Everything also was on a very small scale; and the lady herself, who was clad in deep widow's weeds, was small and slim also, and looked as if she were somewhat of an invalid, which indeed was the case.
Rather more than a year ago her husband had died after a very short illness, and she had never been well since, although she was not exactly ill of any disease. She was weak and easily upset, and she had to depend a good deal upon her servants and her only daughter. She had never been accustomed to think for herself. Captain St. Aiden had always done the thinking and the managing as long as he lived, and the poor lady felt very helpless when he was taken from her.
When the servant had gone she took up again a letter which she had been reading, and kept turning the leaves of it over and over again, sighing, and seeming troubled and perplexed. She also kept looking across the room towards the door at short intervals, sometimes saying half aloud as she did so,--