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.