“No, I don’t think that. I quite see that everyone can’t enter the religious life—but then everyone doesn’t want to.”
“Every enthusiastic little girl who has just been bitten by a Romanist craze wants to,” said Bertha laughing, “but no one has any business to encourage them, and I don’t think any the better of your convent authorities for doing so, my Francie.”
“May I go there next month?”
“No, my dear, you may not, and if you can’t make up your mind to it, I shall forbid any more correspondence with these people. I don’t want to be severe with you, and I know quite well that you think you’re doing right and being a little martyr in a sacred cause, etc., but I’ve got my conscience to think of as well as yours, you know.”
Frances began to cry again, in a helpless, inefficient sort of way that gave no hint of the sense of irrevocability that had taken possession of her and finally clinched her resolution.
Bertha left the room, frowning a little in her vexation and perplexity.
“You’re making yourself quite ill with all this worry, dear Mrs. Tregaskis,” protested Minnie fondly. “You really will break down.”
“Oh, it would take more than that to make me break down, my dear! But it certainly is very tiresome, and making the whole house uncomfortable. However, there’s a meeting I have to go to at Pensevern school next week, and I shall spend a couple of nights with Nina. That’ll make a break, and give me a bit of a rest. And between ourselves, Minnie, when I get back I’m going to arrange to send Frances somewhere for a little change. It’ll do us all good to get away from one another for a while, and then we shall be able to start fresh. Poor little girl, I can’t bear to see her so wretched.”
“Mrs. Tregaskis,” said Minnie with conviction, “you really are an angel without any wings.”
The following week witnessed the departure of the angelic Mrs. Tregaskis for Pensevern, and the atmosphere of tension at Porthlew sensibly relaxed.