This twenty-fifth birthday had long been anticipated as the

turning-point when this submissive girlhood ought to close, and the

privileges of acting as well as thinking for herself ought to be

assumed. Something to do was her cry, and on this very day that

something seemed to be cast in her way. It was not ameliorating the

condition of the masses, but it was educating those who might ameliorate

them; and Rachel gladly hailed the prospect of a vocation that might be

conducted without pain to her mother.

Young children of her own class were not exactly what her dream

of usefulness had devised; but she had already a decided theory of

education, and began to read up with all her might, whilst taking the

lead in all the details of house taking, servant hiring, &c., to which

her regular occupations of night school in the evening and reading to

the lacemakers by day, became almost secondary. In due time the arrival

of the ship was telegraphed, a hurried and affectionate note followed,

and, on a bright east-windy afternoon, Rachel Curtis set forth to take

up her mission. A telegram had announced the arrival of the Voluta, and

the train which would bring the travellers to Avonchester. The Homestead

carriage was sent to meet them, and Rachel in it, to give her helpless

cousin assistance in this beginning of English habits. A roomy fly had

been engaged for nurses and children, and Mrs. Curtis had put under the

coachman's charge a parcel of sandwiches, and instructed him to offer

all the appliances for making her own into an invalid carriage.

Full of warm tenderness to those who were to be dependent on her

exertions, led by her good sense, Rachel paced the platform till the

engine rushed up, and she looked along the line of windows, suddenly

bewildered. Doors opened, but gentlemen alone met her disappointed eye,

until close to her a soft voice said, "Rachel!" and she saw a figure in

deep black close to her; but her hand had been hardly clasped before

the face was turned eagerly to a tall, bearded man, who was lifting out

little boy after little boy, apparently in an endless stream, till at

last a sleeping baby was brought out in the arms of a nurse.

"Good-bye. Thank you, oh, thank you. You will come soon. Oh, do come on

now."

"Do come on now," was echoed by many voices.

"I leave you in good hands. Good-bye."

"Good-bye. Conrade dear, see what Cyril is doing; never mind, Wilfred,

the Major will come and see us; run on with Coombe." This last was a

respectable military-looking servant, who picked up a small child in one

hand and a dressing-case in the other, and awaited orders.




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