but I suppose reaction is natural with recovered spirits, and this summer she has taken less pains, and has let Francis occupy her too much, and—what I like least of all—her inattention brings back the old rubs with Sarah’s temper.’
‘You must take her in hand.’
‘If she were but my daughter or niece!’
‘I thought you had made her feel as such.’
‘This sort of reproof is the difficulty, and brings back the sense of our relative positions. However, the thing is to be done as much for her sake as for our own.’
Lucilla knew that a lecture was impending, but she really loved and esteemed Mrs. Prendergast too much to prepare to champ the bit. That lady’s warmth and simplicity, and, above all, the largeness of mind that prevented her from offending or being offended by trifles, had endeared her extremely to the young governess. Not only had these eight months passed without the squabble that Owen had predicted would send her to Hiltonbury in a week, but Cilla had decidedly, though insensibly, laid aside many of the sentiments and habits in which poor Honor’s opposition had merely confirmed her. The effect of the sufferings of the past summer had subdued her for a long time, the novelty of her position had awed her, and what Mrs. Prendergast truly called the reaction had been so tardy in coming on that it was a surprise even to herself. Sensible that she had given cause for displeasure, she courted the téte-à-téte, and herself began thus—‘I beg your pardon for my idleness. It is a fatal thing to be recalled to the two passions of my youth—fishing and photography.’
‘My husband will give Francis employment in the morning,’ said Mrs. Prendergast. ‘It will not do to give Sarah’s natural irritability too many excuses for outbreaks.’
‘She never accepts excuses,’ said Lucilla, ‘though I am sure she might. I have been a sore trial to her diligence and methodicalness; and her soul is too much bent on her work for us to drag her out to be foolish, as would be best for her.’
‘So it might be for her; but, my dear, pardon me, I am not speaking only for Sarah’s sake.’
With an odd jerk of head and hand, Cilly exclaimed, ‘Oh! the old story—the other f—flirting, is it?’