Frances’s eyes kindled as she heard of these remembered joys. She was by no means unhealthily self-introspective by nature; and since she had repented her unworthy treatment of Jim, and done her best to make amends, the load of sensitive shame and humiliation had seemed to fall from her heart. Need she longer hold aloof from the comrades to whom she had once ventured to speak—parrot-like, as it now appeared to her awakened sense, and ignorant of real issues—such brave words of fellowship and admiration towards all those who did worthily the world’s exacting work? Might she not again take her place among them, better instructed and less ready to instruct?
Florry found that persuasion was not needed. Frances was too sincere to profess a belief in difficulties which time had swept away. She replied, very truthfully and willingly, that she longed to refill the Altruist work-basket.
“I could give odd half-hours to it, you know, Florry. The mornings are so light now, I could easily rise a little earlier.”
“Mamma says it is always the busy people who do the most. Oh, dear Frances, I am so glad! You will see, to-morrow, how badly you have been missed.”
CHAPTER XIV.
MRS. MORLAND’S TRIO.
Mrs. Morland, in a sober evening dress of black silk, inhabited her sitting-room in solitary state. The nest her children’s love had prepared for her was fresh and sweet as an Altruist spring-cleaning could make it; and its occupant, surrounded by pretty and dainty things, looked in no want of pity as she sat by her cosy fireside, a volume of Tennyson in her hands. Yet on this particular evening the leisurely reader seemed not entirely at ease. Her eyes wandered continually from her book, and the expression of her face had for once lost its satisfaction with self and impatience with the rest of the world. In thought as in act Mrs. Morland was slow to admit novelty; but a simple occurrence of the afternoon had touched her imagination, and inclined her to observe intelligently various matters which helped to make the small sum of her daily experience.
A little earlier she had been entertaining visitors—only Muriel and Edward Carlyon. But those young people possessed alert and vigorous individualities which were apt to leave a track where they had been. They talked well on a good many subjects, and had the pleasant knack of choosing those subjects with due regard to their company. Mrs. Morland liked them both, and was by no means insensible to the kindness which had made Frances and Austin their pupils still. So she had listened graciously, and spoken a few appropriate words of thanks when the brother and sister had warmly commended her children’s progress.
“How proud you must be of them!” Miss Carlyon had exclaimed, determined to do her favourites justice. “Do you know, I think no one ever had a brighter trio than yours.”
Mrs. Morland stiffened perceptibly as she heard the word “trio”.
“My two children always have given me every satisfaction,” she replied with emphasis.