Another element also was entering into the question. Jessie had always been a light-hearted maiden; partly because life had hitherto shown to her chiefly its sunny side; but she was by no means without a share of that true womanliness, which happily few women entirely lack, and which means being drawn by the sight of suffering.
Only the most spoilt and the most selfish of women are repelled by sickness and sorrow; for in true woman-nature, there is a natural craving to give help where help is needed.
Miss Perkins had pitied most when Mildred lay powerless and unconscious. Jessie pitied most now that Mildred was awake to her own lonely and forlorn condition. And Jessie not only pitied, but loved. She gave her warm girl-heart first to Hero, and then unreservedly to Hero's mistress. Not many days passed from Millie's first awakening into full sense, before Jessie found an absolute delight in knowing her. To be left in charge of Mildred, it did not matter how long, was the best thing that could happen.
Miss Perkins perceived this, and the iron entered into her soul. She had done much for Jessie—had kept her from destitution, had given her a home, had supplied her requirements, had provided her with necessary teaching; but with all the amount of her practical kindnesses, she had never won her niece's heart after this fashion. If Jessie loved Miss Perkins, it was with a duty-love. There was no real clinging affection, no delight in Miss Perkins' presence, no craving for Miss Perkins' smile. The most Jessie commonly hoped for was to avoid a "fuss," to please her aunt so far as not to be scolded or grumbled at.
To see this passive stranger winning in a week what Miss Perkins had failed to win in fourteen or fifteen years was a bitter pill. Miss Perkins did not make allowance for the eccentricities of a young girl's fancy; still less did she allow for the repellent effects of her own dry manner and uncertain temper. She said nothing, and only nursed her annoyance in private; but the jealousy threatened to colour her after-relations with Mildred. As the invalid grew stronger, Miss Perkins became more tart; reverting to the mode of speech and action usually characteristic of her, with some added acidity from the cause above mentioned.
Jessie saw the change, and did not divine its root. She never dreamt of such a possibility as that Miss Perkins could be greedy of warmer love from the niece whom she systematically snubbed, and whom she always seemed to regard as an unwelcome burden.
"Aunt Barbara care!" she would have exclaimed, had the idea been suggested to her. "Oh, that isn't her way at all. She only wants not to be bothered."
But it was very much Miss Perkins' way, only always below the surface.
Mr. Gilbert was still entirely laid aside, able to sleep little with the ceaseless pain of his crushed arm, and altogether in a state of great exhaustion. His sister had come from a distance to assist in nursing him; and though he had repeatedly inquired after Millie, and had sent many kind messages of interest in her condition, he was not yet fit for callers; so nobody had seen him except his own household and the doctor. The "mending" in his arm was exceedingly slow; and he had had a succession of relapses.
Jack Groates, on the contrary, although it was true that his leg had sustained a compound fracture, was doing well, lying in bed to be nursed by his cheery little mother. The bones were joining nicely, and he had had no "drawbacks" at all.