"Don't you think I see all that clearly enough now?" replied Amy mournfully, "and what is worse, there is a mail going out to-morrow--the 'China,' and I'm convinced he'll sail by it. Oh, Pearl! do help me. What am I to do? I can't let him go away again. I really can't."
"Now look here, Amy, if I come to the rescue in this matter--which is far more than you deserve, Miss--will you promise to be guided by me?"
"Well, you know, Pearl," replied Amy, with a mischievous light in her eyes, "I hate making promises, for I no sooner make one than I find c'est plus fort que moi, and lo! it is broken. But in this case my own interests are so much at stake that perhaps--perhaps--"
Pearl rose from her seat and began putting on her cloak.
"Oh, Amy, Amy! why will you not be more like other people? You give most people, dear, such an entirely false impression of your real nature. But never mind, I am not going to preach any more to-day. Good-bye! and if Sir Ralph ever has the temerity to ask you again, try and behave for once in your life like a rational being."
Pearl's thoughts were much occupied with Miss Mendovy as she drove home that afternoon. She was extremely attached to her young cousin, and perhaps she sympathised better than most people with the contradictions of that girlish nature.
Amy Mendovy, the only child of a sister of Mrs. Rawlinson's, was left an orphan while still an infant. Rosina adopted her, in every way fulfilling the mother's part. She loved the girl with all her heart. But in spite of her great affection and indeed, genuine admiration, she did not profess in the smallest degree to understand her. Consequently their ideas, habits, and ways of looking at things generally, were hardly what could be called congenial or sympathetic.
Mrs. Rawlinson was a simple-minded creature, and deluded herself with the belief that she was now extremely modern and up-to-date. If the truth were known, she had never entirely recovered from the narrow, Calvinistic training of her youth, a proof of which was particularly shown in the prim, little manner she affected when she thought it necessary to correct her niece. Amy delighted in rousing that manner, indeed, at times her chief joy in life appeared to be that of teasing her aunt. It was only when she had succeeded in finally driving the poor soul to the verge of desperation that she would throw her arms around her neck, coax her, blame herself, ask pardon--in fact, behave generally in such a bewitching caline way, that it would indeed be a stony heart that could resist her, and certainly not the soft organ that Rosina Rawlinson was generally credited with possessing.
Pearl as she drove home, was thinking of this strain of perversity in her cousin's disposition. She confessed to herself that it added greatly to her charm, but nevertheless she deeply regretted this peculiarity, preferring to dwell on those deeper traits in the girl's character which to others were so seldom visible. Under the apparently frivolous, somewhat futile manner, there was a strength, almost a grandeur of soul, the glimpses of which more than once had literally taken away Pearl's breath, so totally had she been unprepared for such an exhibition. It was strange to hear some deep thought expressed by those lips, that seemed formed only for mockery and laughter, and still stranger to see the flash of cold disdain, of righteous scorn, that would fill the dark eyes at the sight of some mean or unworthy action, or at the sound of some paltry, petty speech.
But it was only to very few that the beautiful Miss Mendovy ever showed this finer side of her nature, and to the world at large she was looked upon as a girl of moods--original and impetuous--lovely as a dream, and as heartless as a stone.