Amy saw how hopeless it was to attempt to comfort her cousin. She could only show by looks and manner the pain she felt at her unhappiness; and with this Dora was quite satisfied. Amy's silent sympathy was consoling, where words would have distressed her; but it was not natural to her to speak much of her own feelings, and again she turned the conversation to the intended visit.
"If you come on Monday," she said, "we shall have a few days to ourselves, for no one is to be here till after Friday, which is Christmas-day."
"And will they all come together?" asked Amy.
"No; that is what provokes me so. If there were a good many, they would entertain each other; but I can't imagine what we shall do with two or three. I think I shall try again to make mamma alter the plan."
"But you will have Margaret to help you."
"She will be worse than nothing; for Lord Rochford and Miss Cunningham are to come on Saturday, and you know very well that, when they are here, Margaret will think of nothing else."
"Is Miss Cunningham really coming?" asked Amy, looking very blank.
Dora laughed. "You should not let your face tell such tales, Amy; now I speak out at once, and say, I can't endure her, and you had much better do the same."
"No," replied Amy, "I don't like to do it unless I am obliged, and I dare say a great deal of the fault is my own; but I care much more about Miss Morton than anything else—Miss Cunningham treats her so ill."
"Yes, she makes even me angry sometimes, and you know I am not in love with your dear Emily."