Polly did not want to think cruel thoughts of anyone, but she was not quite impressed with Christina’s attitude of woe for her lost husband.
It was true she had never met poor Mark Wentworth, never seen Christina and he together; she was forced to judge her sister by what her instinct warned her was false.
There was a superficial ring altogether about Christina’s sorrow; her widow’s weeds were too smart, everything about her was too pretty. There could not be real lamentation, the girl told herself not scornfully but regretfully, when the question of dress and appearance was so paramount. Besides, in some of her quiet moments with Grace, Polly had introduced the subject of Christina’s married life, and had quickly grasped from what Grace left unsaid the sort of union it had been.
All this, however, had belonged to Christina, and Polly told herself quite frankly that if her sister chose to wear pretty garments and pose as a beautiful object of pity, that was her sister’s business and not her own; but when Christina suddenly, and for some reason unspoken, proposed to quit her luxurious rooms in a fashionable hotel to take up her place in her mother’s house, Polly may be forgiven if she felt both annoyed and doubtful.
What was there in the shabby old house and the straightened circumstances to draw Christina back to what had once been her home?
Polly was not vain enough to imagine that she could be an attraction, while for her mother, Lady Wentworth had never shown even ordinary consideration or courtesy since her marriage, and Polly felt sorrowfully it was not love for this troubled mother that urged her to return now.
There was something in the matter that Polly could not understand, and yet that jarred her.
Her mother had welcomed the suggestion with delight. It was an unexpected gleam of happiness to her, this thought that her eldest born should, after all, have evinced a desire to be with her, and for the first time since they had been alone together she found occasion to be very sharp, even angry with Polly.
To her mother’s heart, Christina’s wish was most natural, and Polly’s plainly spoken objection to Christina’s coming upset her altogether.
Polly bore patiently with her mother’s anger; it was a little hurtful to her to find once again how easily this mother turned to other influences for pleasure and solace, but Polly forgave the hurt because she knew the worth of her simple, true-hearted mother’s love, not merely for herself, but for all belonging to her.