"Among other things, perhaps she taught you to hate that cruel old Lady Carset," said the countess, a little suspiciously.
"No, grandmamma, no. She never said anything to make me dislike you; but I did—it was terribly wicked; but how could I help it, loving her so, and knowing that it was you that stood in the way of all she most desired in life? Remember, grandmamma, I had never seen you, and I loved her dearly. It was hard to see her overlooked and put down by people who were not fit to buckle her shoes, all because you would not like her."
"And you will always love her better than the cruel old lady?"
"Cruel! How can you? There never was a sweeter, kinder, or more lovely old darling in the world than you are! but then she is good, too, and so unhappy at times, it almost breaks my heart to look in her face."
"And you think I have made her so?"
"I think you might make her very happy, if you only would, grandmamma."
"Would that make you happy, little one?"
The old lady reached out her little, withered hand, and patted Clara's fingers, as they paused in her work, while she spoke. The girl's face brightened. She seized the little hand between her rosy palms, and pressed it to her lips.
"Oh, grandmamma! can you mean it?"
"I always mean to be just, Clara."