It was sagely said, and Clement knew pretty well who was the one person from whom Sophy had fears. Poor Alda, improved and altered as she was, if such a hope occurred to her, would she be able to help imparting it to her daughter and looking out for the fulfilment?
Loud calls for Sophy rang through the house, and Clement had only time to add—
“Patience, dear child, and submission. They not only win the day, but are the best preparation for it when it is won.”
That family of girls had grown up to be a care to one who had trusted that his calling would be a shield from worldly concerns; but he accepted it as providential, and as a trust imposed on him as certainly as Felix had felt the headship of the orphaned house.
He was rejoiced to find on coming down-stairs that Lance had decided on giving another day to family counsels, sending off little Felix with his cousins, who would drop him at the junction to Stoneborough, whence he would be proud to travel alone. Clement took another resolution, in virtue of which he knocked at his sister’s door before she went down.
“Cherry,” said he, “would it be inconvenient to keep Francie here just for the present?”
“Not at all; it would be only too pleasant for Anna now that she loses her brother. But why?”
“I want to hinder her from hearing the conclusions that her mother may draw from the diversions of yesterday.”
“I see. It might soon be,
‘He cometh not, she said.’”