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"She is not like the same girl," she said sadly. "She feels darling Hatty's loss more than the others. What does it matter about me, Herbert? A mother must think of her children before herself." "Perhaps so," he replied rather dryly, "but it is my duty to think first of you, my dear Dora. We both love our children, and would willingly do our best for them.
It was only a kindly worded note, full of sympathy for Hatty's little ailments, such as any friendly stranger might write; but the closing sentence was terribly damaging to Bessie's plans. "Please do not let your father recall Bessie unless it be absolutely necessary. We are all so fond of her, and my poor girl, who is in sad trouble just now, is dependent on her for companionship.
And she scrambled over the bed, and with another cheerful "good-night," vanished; but Hatty's troubled thoughts were lulled by sisterly sympathy, and she soon slept peacefully. Late as it was before Bessie laid her weary head on the pillow beside her sleeping sister, it was long before her eyes closed and she sunk into utter forgetfulness.
Hatty, in spite of her morbid humors and difficult tendencies, had a refined and cultured mind; her chief source of fretfulness was that she loved the best, and failed to reach it. The very loftiness of her standard produced despondency akin to despair. Hatty's faith was pure, but feeble. She hated everything false and mean. She despised the conventionalities of life, while Bessie laughed at them.
"Yes, bye and bye," he returned hastily; "but her mother cannot spare the girl now; she is not well; her strength has flagged since Hatty's death, and Bessie is mother's crutch; but later on you shall have her; and indeed she looks pale, and in need of change, and I shall be thankful to let her go."
When Bessie had got through her list of commissions she sat down to enjoy her letter quietly, but before she had read many lines her color rose, and a half-stifled exclamation of surprise came from her lips; but, in spite of Hatty's curious questions, she read steadily to the end, and then laid the letter on her mother's lap.
Bessie's sweet, reasonable nature was easily guided; her passionate love for Hatty had blinded her to her own selfishness, but now her eyes were open. The mother's heart was often touched by the cheerful alacrity with which Bessie would yield her place to Christine. Even Hatty's plaintive, "Oh, must you go, Bessie?" seemed to make no impression; but how long those two hours seemed!
It was the happiest evening Bessie had had since Hatty's death; it was such a relief to see Edna's face bright with smiles, and to hear the satisfied tones of her voice, and to meet the quiet look of content on Mr. Sinclair's face. He was not a demonstrative man, and a stranger would hardly have thought his manner lover-like, but it was evident that he and Edna understood each other perfectly.
"Four girls!" he says: "four girls, and never a lad! Who on earth wants four girls? I'll sell one or two of you cheap, if I can find him." But I don't think he would, if it came to the point. I know, for all his queer speeches sometimes, he is proud of Fanny's good looks, and Sophy's good housekeeping, and even Hatty's pert sayings.
You are looking pale from confinement to the house and want of exercise. You know your father insists that Christine should relieve you for two hours in the afternoon." "Yes, mother; and of course father is thinking of me; but what does it matter if I look a little pale? I cannot bear to lose an hour of Hatty's company when when " but Bessie could not finish her sentence.
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