‘I think it is more ladylike to act uprightly,’ said Gillian.
Wherewith, having made the discovery, and escorted Maura beyond the reach of her enemies, she parted with the child, and turned homewards. Gillian was at the stage in which sensible maidens have a certain repugnance and contempt for the idea of love and lovers as an interruption to the higher aims of life and destruction to family joys. Romance in her eyes was the exaltation of woman out of reach, and Maura’s communications inclined her to glorify Kalliope as a heroine, molested by a very inconvenient person, ‘Spighted by a fool, spighted and angered both,’ as she quoted Imogen to herself.
It would be a grand history to tell Alethea of her friend, when she should have learnt a little more about it, as she intended to do on Sunday from Kalliope herself, who surely would be grateful for some sympathy and friendship. Withal she recollected that it was Indian-mail day, and hurried home to see whether the midday post had brought any letters. Her two aunts were talking eagerly, but suddenly broke off as she opened the door.
‘Well, Gillian—’ began Aunt Ada.
‘No, no, let her see for herself,’ said Aunt Jane.
‘Oh! I hope nothing is the matter?’ she exclaimed, seeing a letter to herself on the table.
‘No; rather the reverse.’
A horrible suspicion, as she afterwards called it, came over Gillian as she tore open the letter. There were two small notes. The first was—
‘DEAR LITTLE GILL—I am going to give you a new brother. Mother will tell you all.—Your loving sister,
‘P. E. M.’