For answer, the mother caught her daughter close within her arms, kissed her passionately, and asked:
“Oh, little captain! If you go so far from me, how shall I live?”
“I––go so far––from you!” repeated Lady Jess, in utter astonishment. “Why, what can you mean?”
Mrs. Trent recovered her composure, even smiled––if not very gayly––and answered, tenderly: “Whatever come, my sunshine, remember that, of all things, your mother desires your welfare before her own. But more than that I cannot tell you now. So, run to Aunt Sally, dear, and ask if she can be spared from her nursing a few hours. I think one of the other men will relieve Ephraim, if he is tired, in waiting upon Antonio. I want she should help me get up an extra fine supper for Mr. Ninian’s friend. 214 Ah! my child, how much we owe to that young man’s goodness and enterprise!”
“Indeed, indeed, we do. But seems to me we do nothing but cook here, nowadays. It’s always company, isn’t it?”
“And glad I am of that. So long as the larder has anything in it, I love to share it with––friends. Not strangers, who do not care, but with anybody else, the best we have. If a luxury well; and if but a crust, still well. Now––to Aunt Sally.”
Jessica guessed that as soon as she was out of sight the disagreeable letter from the other side of the continent would be promptly read, and wondered not a little concerning its contents. And she was right. Mrs. Trent had barely finished its perusal, when Mrs. Benton appeared, but from her the mother had nothing to hide. She looked up quietly, and said:
“Another more urgent entreaty from old Cousin Margaret. She puts the matter so strongly as my duty that I’m compelled to acknowledge she is––may be––right.”
“Humph! She’s been wrong enough, sometimes,” returned Aunt Sally, peevishly. “That’s when she got angry with you for marrying Cass’us.”
“That was mostly from indignation at losing me, her one loved relative. There could never have been a kinder guardian–––”