“Won’t you believe how truly nice and good she is?”
“That will not make up for the connection. My heart sank, Jenny, from the time I heard that those Vivians were coming back. I kept Frank away as long as I could—but there’s no help for it. It seems the fate of my boys to be the prey of those sirens.”
“Well, then, dear Mrs. Poynsett, do pray believe, on my word, that Eleonora is a different creature!”
“Is there no hope of averting it? I thought Camilla would—poor Frank is such insignificant game!”
“And when it does come, don’t be set against her, please, dear Mrs. Poynsett. Be as kind to her—as you were to me,” whispered Jenny, nestling up, and hiding her face.
“My dear, but I knew you! You were no such case.”
“Except that you all were horribly vexed with us, because we couldn’t help liking each other,” said Jenny.
“Ah! my poor child! I only wish you could have liked any one else!”
“Do you?” said Jenny, looking up. “Oh no, you don’t! You would not have me for your supplementary child, if I had,” she added playfully; then very low—“It is because the thought of dear Archie, even ending as it did, is my very heart’s joy, that I want you to let them have theirs!”
And then came a break, which ended the pleading; and Jenny was obliged to leave Compton without much notion as to the effect of her advice, audacious as she knew it to have been.