A girl of about sixteen came towards them, stopping to speak to the ladies as she passed them on her way up the room. She was short for her age, and rather squarely built, holding herself very upright, and walking with calmness and decision.
Everything about Delia Hunt seemed to express determination, from her firm chin to her dark curly hair, which would always look rough, although it was brushed back from her forehead and fastened up securely in a knot at the back of her head. Nothing could make it lie flat and smooth, however, and in spite of all Delia’s efforts, it curled and twisted itself defiantly wherever it had a chance. Perhaps, by doing so, it helped to soften a face which would have been a little hard without the good-tempered expression which generally filled the bright brown eyes.
“That sort of marriage never answers,” said Mrs Winn, as Delia reached her mother’s side. “Just see what unhappiness it caused. It was a bitter blow to Mr and Mrs Forrest; it made poor old Mr Goodwin miserable, and separated him from his only child; and as to Prissy herself—well, the poor thing didn’t live to find out her mistake, and left her little daughter to feel the consequences of it.”
“Poor little motherless darling,” murmured Mrs Hunt.—“Del, my love, go on with my work a little, while I say a few words to old Mrs Crow.”
Delia took her mother’s place, threaded her needle, raised her eyebrows with an amused air, as she examined the work accomplished, and bent her head industriously over it.
“Doesn’t it seem quite impossible,” said Miss Gibbins, “to realise that Prissy’s daughter is really coming to Waverley to-morrow! Why, it seems the other day that I saw Prissy married in Dornton church!”
“It must be fifteen years ago at the least,” said Mrs Winn, in such deep tones that they seemed to roll round the room. “The child must be fourteen years old.”
“She wore grey cashmere,” said Miss Gibbins, reflectively, “and a little white bonnet. And the sun streamed in upon her through the painted window. I remember thinking she looked like a dove. I wonder if the child is like her.”
“The Forrests have never taken much notice of Mr Goodwin, since the marriage,” said Mrs Hurst, “but I suppose, now his grandchild is to live there, all that will be altered.”
Delia looked quickly up at the speaker, but checked the words on her lips, and said nothing.