‘Your most grateful and humble servant,
‘GENEVIEVE CELESTE DURANT.’
‘There!’ said Albinia, tossing the note to her brother, who was the only person present excepting Gilbert.
‘Poor Albinia,’ he said, ‘it is hard to be disappointed in a bit of patronage.’
‘I never meant it as patronage,’ said Albinia, slightly hurt. ‘I thought it would help you, and rescue her from that school. There will she spend the best years of her life in giving a second-rate education to third-rate girls, not one of whose parents can appreciate her, till she will grow as wizened and as wooden as Mademoiselle herself.’
‘Happily,’ said Mr. Ferrars, ‘there are worse things than being spent in one’s duty. She may be doing an important work in her sphere.’
‘So does a horse in a mill,’ exclaimed Albinia; ‘but you would not put a hunter there. Yes, yes, I know, education, and these girls wanting right teaching; but she, poor child, has been but half educated herself, and has not time to improve herself. If she does good, it is by force of sheer goodness, for they all look down upon her, as much as vulgarity can upon refinement.’
‘I told her so,’, exclaimed Gilbert; ‘I told her it was the only way to teach them what she was worth.’
‘What did you know of the matter?’ asked Albinia; and the colour mounted in the boy’s face as he muttered, ‘She was overcome when she came down, she said you had been so kind, and we were obliged to walk up and down before she could compose herself, for she did not want the old ladies to know anything about it.’
‘And did she not wish to go?’