Aldyth could never have said that her sister treated her unkindly; yet again and again, she found herself gently pushed on one side that Gladys might take the lead.
Gladys had been first in the family for too many years to be willing now to resign her premiership in favour of Aldyth just because she, too, was her mother's daughter and nearly three years older than herself. But she did not assert her supremacy in any disagreeable manner, and Mrs. Stanton endeavoured to veil her preference for Gladys.
"You do not care for dancing, Aldyth, so I must not take you to this party;" or, "This entertainment is not intellectual enough for you," she would say, when invitations came in. And Aldyth, not without heartache, yet in all sincerity, would reply that she would rather remain at home.
Aldyth used to look forward to the Saturday of each week, for early on that day Nelly would come home from school.
She and her young sister had become the best of friends, and found much enjoyment in each other's company. It was good for Nelly to confide to so sympathetic a listener the details of her school life. Her mother had neither time nor inclination to interest herself in them. Her main anxiety concerning her youngest daughter's education was that she should learn to speak French and acquire a good deportment.
Nelly had good abilities, but she was naturally indolent. The training she had received had not taught her to love knowledge; but now, under Aldyth's influence, she began to take an interest in literature. She was working well at her drawing, and cherished the hope of being an artist; and when Aldyth pointed out to her the fact that every kind of knowledge may be of service to a painter, she bestowed more pains on her general school work.
Aldyth could not doubt that her stepfather was a man of wealth, for Mrs. Stanton and Gladys spent money lavishly, and the style of their home was most luxurious. There were so many servants that Aldyth could find no domestic duties to perform. She was at no loss how to employ her leisure.
Mudie's Library supplied her with the books she desired to read, and all the varied means of culture that London affords were open to her. But there were times when Aldyth's conscience smote her for leading a selfish, aimless life, and she longed for her poor people at Woodham, and the many occupations of her busy life there. However, work for others always comes to those who are willing to undertake it, and ere long it came to Aldyth.
One day, Gladys having a pleasanter engagement in prospect, Mrs. Stanton took Aldyth to visit some friends at Blackheath. There was a small party invited to meet them, and amongst the number were a clergyman and his wife, in whom Aldyth soon felt considerable interest. Mrs. Wheatley was a small, frail-looking woman, but full of life and energy. Her features were plain, but her countenance had a charm which beauties might envy, for it betokened rare intellectual power combined with all that is good and sweet and womanly. Aldyth felt drawn to her at once, and probably the attraction was mutual, for as soon as an opportunity occurred, Mrs. Wheatley moved to a chair beside Aldyth and began to talk with her.
How is it that half an hour's talk with some persons seems equal to months of intercourse with others? In an incredibly short time Aldyth felt perfectly at home with Mrs. Wheatley, and could talk to her as if she were an old friend. To her surprise, Aldyth learned that this delicate, refined-looking lady lived in one of the least desirable localities of the East-end of London, having resolutely determined, contrary to the advice of physicians and friends, that she would make her home in her husband's parish, and live among the poor people she desired to help and raise.