"What if she is?" said Matilda. "Mamma read that in one of Aunt Candy's letters, I remember."
"We'll see what Mr. Richmond will say to her. Maria reports that he does not like red flowers; I wonder what he will think of some other things."
"That is only Maria's nonsense," Matilda insisted. "I know Mr. Richmond likes red flowers; he has got a red lily in his room."
"In his room – oh yes! but not in people's bonnets, you know; nor in their heads; if they are Christians."
"I can't imagine what people's being Christians has to do with red flowers," said Matilda. "Besides, Clarissa hadn't any flowers about her at all. I don't know what you are talking of."
"Didn't you see her gold chain, though, that hung round her neck?"
"Her watch was on that. Mayn't Christians wear gold chains? What nonsense you do talk, Letitia!"
"I shouldn't want to be a Christian if I thought I couldn't wear anything," Maria remarked.
"Nor would I," said Letitia. "So I advise you, my dears, to be a little careful how you join Bands and such things. You may find that Mr. Richmond is not just the sort of Christian you want to be."
The conclave broke up, having reached a termination of general dissatisfaction common to such conclaves. Maria went to bed grumbling. Matilda was as usual silent.
The next day, however, found all the family as bright as itself. It was a cold day in January; snow on the ground; a clear, sharp sunshine glittering from white roofs and fence tops and the banks of snow heaped against the fences, and shining on twigs and branches of the bare trees; coming into houses with its cheery and keen look at everything it found, as if bidding the dark sides of things, and the dusty corners, to change their characters and be light and fair. In the basement the family gathered for breakfast in happy mood, ready to be pleased with each other; so pleasure was the order of the day. Pleasure had a good deal to feed on, too; for after the long breakfast was over and the conversation had adjourned to the parlour, there came the bestowing of presents which Clarissa had brought for her friends. And they were so many and so satisfactory, that the criticisms of the past night were certainly for the present forgotten; Letitia forgave her cousin her daintiness, and Maria overlooked the gold watch. Matilda as usual said little, beyond the civil, needful words, which that little girl always spoke gracefully.
"You are a character, my dear, I see," her aunt observed, drawing Matilda to her side caressingly.
"What is that, Aunt Candy?"
"Well, I don't know, my dear," her aunt answered, laughing; "you put me to define and prove my words, and you bring me into difficulty. I think, however, I shall be safe in saying, that a 'character' is a person who has his own thoughts."
"But doesn't everybody?"
"Have his own thoughts? No, my dear; the majority have the thoughts of other people."
"How can they, Aunt Candy?"
"Just by not thinking for themselves. It saves a great deal of trouble."
"But we all think for ourselves," said Matilda.
"Do we? Reflect a little. Don't some of you think like other people? about ways of doing, and acting, and dressing, for instance?"
"Oh yes. But, Aunt Candy, if people think for themselves, must they do unlike other people?"
"If they follow out their thoughts, they must, child."
"That suits Matilda then," said her sister Anne.
"Well, it is very nice for a family to have one character in it," said Mrs. Candy.
"But, Aunt Candy, isn't Clarissa a character too?"
"I don't know, Tilly; I really have not found it out, if she is. Up to this time she always thinks as I think. Now she has given you the tokens of remembrance she has brought home for you; what do you think I have got?"
"O aunt, nothing more!" exclaimed Anne.
"Clarissa and I are two people, if neither of us is a character, however," said Mrs. Candy. "Her gifts are not my gifts. But mine shall be different from hers. And if there is more than one character among us, I should like to find it out; and this will do it."
So saying, she fetched out her purse and presented to each of her sister's children a bank-note for twenty-five dollars.
Mrs. Englefield exclaimed and protested. But Mrs. Candy laid her hand on her sister's mouth, and declared she must please herself in her own way.
"What do you want us to do with this, Aunt Candy?" Matilda inquired in a sort of contemplative wonder.
"Just whatever will please you, will please each of you, best. Only that. That is my condition, girls, if I may call it so. You are not to spend that money for any claims of duty or conscience; but simply in that way which will afford you the highest pleasure."
Thanks were warm and gratification very high; and in the best mood in the world the new relations sat down to talk to each other and study each other for the remainder of the day. Clarissa pleased her cousins. She was undoubtedly extremely pretty, with big, brown, honest eyes, that gave a good full look into the face she was speaking to; beautiful hair a little lighter in colour, and great sweetness of outline and feature. Yet she was reserved; very quiet; very self-possessed – to a degree that almost carried an air of superiority in the minds of her cousins. Those large brown eyes of hers would be lifted swiftly to the face of some one speaking, and then go down again, with no sign of agreeing or disagreeing – indeed, with no sign of her thought at all; but she had thoughts of course; why should she not show them, as her cousins did? It was almost supercilious, to the fancy of Anne and Letitia; Matilda and Maria were fascinated. Then her hands were more delicate than those of Mrs. Englefield's children; and there were one or two costly rings on them. Anne and Letty did not understand their value, but nevertheless even they could guess that they belonged to a superior description of jewellery from that which was displayed beneath the glass cases of Mr. Kurtz the watchmaker of Shadywalk. Then Clarissa's dress was of fine quality, and made beautifully, and her little gold watch with its chain "put a finish upon it," Anne said. A little hair necklace with a gold clasp was round her neck besides; and her comb was real tortoise-shell. Clarissa was dainty, there was no doubt; but her sweet mouth was grave and modest; her words were few; her manners were very kindly and proper; and her cousins on the whole were obliged to approve her.
CHAPTER IV
"What is all this hurry about?" Clarissa inquired one evening, as they were going down-stairs in answer to the tea-bell; "why are we earlier than usual? Anne says we are."
"Oh, because it is prayer-meeting night – no, not prayer meeting, it isn't either, but our Band-meeting; and we have to be early for that, you know. Oh, you don't know anything about our Band; but you will, to-night. You'll join it, won't you, Clarissa?"
"I know something about Bands," said Clarissa; "but I never belonged to one. Is it the custom here for ladies to do such things?"
"What things? And do you know about bands? like ours?"
"I daresay I shall find I have something to learn," said Clarissa.
"There is a great deal to learn from Mr. Richmond, I can tell you," said Maria. "Oh, you don't know Mr. Richmond, you haven't seen him, because Sunday was so stormy. Well, you'll see him to-night."
"Aunt Englefield," said Clarissa, when they were seated at the tea-table, – "is your Mr. Richmond Band-master as well as clergyman?"
"Bands are a mystery to me, Clarissa," said Mrs. Englefield; "I do not understand Maria when she gets upon that subject. I hope you will be able to enlighten me some time. Are you going to-night? – well, then, I shall hope to be wiser when you return."
Tea was hurried through, cloaks and furs and hoods and all sorts of wrappings were put on; and the party set forth, Anne and Letitia this time going along. It was pleasanter out than in. White streets and clear starlight, and still, cold, fine air. About the corner a few men and boys were congregated as usual; after passing them and turning into