"I suppose that was the origin of the catastrophe," said Mrs. Wortley.
"I should think so; they have been more alone together lately, for I am sure this could never have happened when Caroline was in the schoolroom. And her making a friend of Clara was no wonder, so forlorn and solitary as she must have been." And Marian sighed with fellow-feeling for her.
"An intimate, not a friend," said Mrs. Wortley.
"And I could better fancy making a friend of Miss Lyddell," said Agnes. "I can't say my tête-à-tête with Miss Clara made me desire much more of her confidence."
"Clara is more caressing," said Marian. "I think I am most fond of her, though Caroline is—O! quite another thing. But what I wanted was to ask you, Mrs. Wortley, if you thought I might write to poor Miss Morley, and ask if there is anything I can do for her. I can't bear to think of her going away without wishing her good-bye, or showing any feeling for her in her distress."
"How very right and kind of you, Marian," exclaimed Agnes, "after all her injustice—"
"I do not think it would be advisable, my dear," said Mrs. Wortley; "it would seem like putting yourself in opposition to Mrs. Lyddell, and might be pledging yourself, in a manner, to recommend her, which, with your opinion of her, you could not well do."
"O, no, no, except in some particular case. Yes, I suppose you are right; but I don't feel happy to take no notice."
"Perhaps something may occur on your return, when you understand the matter more fully; or, at any rate, if you are writing to Oakworthy, you might send some message of farewell, kind remembrances, or love."
"Those are so unmeaning and conventional that I hate them," said Marian.