“Really, my dear!”
“I hope you won’t let Mr. MacGregor talk to her to-morrow. It might undo all the good I’ve done.”
Claudine put her arms about the child and kissed her fervently, the sort of kisses she so often gave to Edna in which were all her secret contrition for her favouritism, all her remorse at the inadequate return she made for this honest and beautiful affection. She had a superstitious dread of being punished some day for her wickedness; some disaster would overtake little Edna, and then she would repent, too late, her idolatry of Andrée.
“Good night, Edna darling!” she said. “You’re such a comfort to me!”
And how much dearer was the pain that one caused her than the comfort the other gave!
CHAPTER FOUR
THE UNABASHED OUTCAST
§ i
CLAUDINE waked up to the dull peace of a mountain Sunday. She could hear the grinding of the ice-cream freezer on the back porch, and far away the bell of the little Roman Catholic church. She rose and dressed while Gilbert still slept, and going out into the hall, knocked on the door of the girls’ room. Andrée was up and half dressed, combing her misty dark hair.
“Edna’s pretending to be asleep,” she said, scornfully.
“There’s no hurry,” said Claudine. “She can wait for Father and have breakfast with him. Finish dressing, and we’ll have time for a little walk.”