human
Mamma, I am determined you shall not wear that old gown any more. Its fashion is not becoming; it is too strait in the skirt. You shall put on your black silk every afternoon. In that you look nice; it suits you. And you shall have a black satin dress for Sundays--a real satin, not a satinet or any of the shams. And, mamma, when you get the new one, mind you must wear it.
gpt
My dear, I thought of the black silk serving me as a best dress for many years yet, and I wished to buy you several things.
human
Nonsense, mamma. My uncle gives me cash to get what I want. You know he is generous enough; and I have set my heart on seeing you in a black satin. Get it soon, and let it be made by a dressmaker of my recommending. Let me choose the pattern. You always want to disguise yourself like a grandmother. You would persuade one that you are old and ugly. Not at all! On the contrary, when well dressed and cheerful you are very comely indeed; your smile is so pleasant, your teeth are so white, your hair is still such a pretty light colour. And then you speak like a young lady, with such a clear, fine tone, and you sing better than any young lady I ever heard. Why do you wear such dresses and bonnets, mamma, such as nobody else ever wears?
gpt
Does it annoy you, Caroline?
human
Very much; it vexes me even. People say you are miserly; and yet you are not, for you give liberally to the poor and to religious societies--though your gifts are conveyed so secretly and quietly that they are known to few except the receivers. But I will be your lady's-maid myself. When I get a little stronger I will set to work, and you must be good, mamma, and do as I bid you.
gpt
My own mamma, then she went on, as if pleasing herself with the thought of their relationship,
human
Did papa give you this, mamma?
gpt
My sister gave it me--my only sister, Cary. Would that your Aunt Caroline had lived to see her niece!
human
Have you nothing of papa's--no trinket, no gift of his?
gpt
I have one thing.
human
That you prize?
gpt
That I prize.
human
Valuable and pretty?
gpt
Invaluable and sweet to me.
human
Show it, mamma. Is it here or at Fieldhead?
gpt
It is talking to me now, leaning on me. Its arms are round me.
human
Ah, mamma, you mean your teasing daughter, who will never let you alone; who, when you go into your room, cannot help running to seek for you; who follows you upstairs and down, like a dog.
gpt
Whose features still give me such a strange thrill sometimes. I half fear your fair looks yet, child.
human
You don't; you can't. Mamma, I am sorry papa was not good. I do so wish he had been. Wickedness spoils and poisons all pleasant things. It kills love. If you and I thought each other wicked, we could not love each other, could we?
gpt
And if we could not trust each other, Cary?
human
How miserable we should be! Mother, before I knew you I had an apprehension that you were not good--that I could not esteem you. That dread damped my wish to see you. And now my heart is elate because I find you perfect--almost; kind, clever, nice. Your sole fault is that you are old-fashioned, and of that I shall cure you. Mamma, put your work down; read to me. I like your southern accent; it is so pure, so soft. It has no rugged burr, no nasal twang, such as almost every one's voice here in the north has. My uncle and Mr. Hall say that you are a fine reader, mamma. Mr. Hall said he never heard any lady read with such propriety of expression or purity of accent.
gpt
I wish I could reciprocate the compliment, Cary; but, really, the first time I heard your truly excellent friend read and preach I could not understand his broad northern tongue.
human
Could you understand me, mamma? Did I seem to speak roughly?
gpt
No. I almost wished you had, as I wished you had looked unpolished. Your father, Caroline, naturally spoke well, quite otherwise than your worthy uncle--correctly, gently, smoothly. You inherit the gift.
human
Poor papa! When he was so agreeable, why was he not good?
gpt
Why he was _as_ he was--and happily of that you, child, can form no conception--I cannot tell. It is a deep mystery. The key is in the hands of his Maker. There I leave it.
human
Mamma, you will keep stitching, stitching away. Put down the sewing; I am an enemy to it. It cumbers your lap, and I want it for my head; it engages your eyes, and I want them for a book. Here is your favourite--Cowper.
gpt
You will spoil me, mamma. I always thought I should like to be spoiled, and I find it very sweet.