"Perhaps he thought you would not be interested," Joy suggested.
Sir Jasper, upon reflection, thought that was very likely the case. All his life he had been so wrapped up in his own concerns that he had taken but little notice of those with whom he had been connected, with the exception of his son and Mr. Tillotson.
The former's tragic death had had the effect of softening his heart towards others, with the result that his thoughts had turned to the niece he had known to be in poor circumstances, and he had sent for her and her family with the idea of benefiting them ultimately. The young people were unconsciously widening his sympathies, and giving him interests outside himself. A year ago he would not have bestowed a second thought upon the Crumleigh Cricket Club, nor would he have evinced much sympathy for his gamekeeper's invalid wife.
His eyes rested thoughtfully on Joy's countenance, and he noticed, with real gratification, how she had improved in appearance lately. She looked well and bright, her cheeks, though not pink and white like Celia's, had become round, and wore a healthy hue, whilst her large grey eyes shone with happiness. He encouraged her to talk, and drew from her an account of her life at A—. Often he had tried to make her sister tell him of their old home, but in vain; it had been a distasteful subject to Celia. He found himself listening to an account of Joy's school friends, and to the doings of Jane the maid-of-all work, and hearing of many little economies and privations which Mrs. Wallis had been quite unable to prevent.
"What an interest you seem to take in everyone, Joy!" he exclaimed at length. "Do you really care about all these people you've mentioned?"
"Why, yes, of course I do, Uncle Jasper," Joy replied, looking surprised at his question. "I was very sorry to leave them all, though I wanted to come here. This is such a beautiful place, and we have everything we possibly want, and Miss Mary Pring's so nice, and I'm getting on well with my music; and I've nothing to wish for but one thing—" and the little girl's face suddenly grew overclouded.
"And that one thing?" he questioned, with a smile.
"I wish you did not think me untruthful, Uncle Jasper." Joy's face grew very grave as she spoke. "Indeed, I am not that, though I've heaps of other faults. Do try to believe I tell the truth."
The old man looked at her keenly, and as he met her earnest gaze, he forgot all his reasons for having mistrusted her, and answered:
"Very well, Joy, I will.