‘That is—’ added Ida, equally at a loss.
‘But what do you mean, mamma?’ said Constance. ‘I always intended to be a teacher; I think it noble, useful work.’
‘Oh, my poor child! what have they brought you to? Pretending such affection, too!’
‘Indeed, mamma, I have meant this always. I could not be dependent all my life, you know. Do listen, mamma; don’t Ida—’
‘That my Lady Adela should insult us that way, when you are as good as she!’
‘Nonsense, Ida! That has nothing to do with it. It is the greatest possible compliment, and I am very much pleased.’
‘Just to live there, at her beck and call, drudging at that child’s lessons!’ sneered Ida.
‘Yes, and when I made sure, at least after all the fuss they have made with you, that your aunt would present you at Court, and make you the young lady of the house, and marry you well, but there’s no trust to be placed in them—none!’
‘Oh, mamma, don’t cry. I should not feel it right, unless Aunt Mary really needed me, and, though she is so kind and dear, she does not really. My only doubt is—’
‘You have a doubt, then?’