She ruminated all the way home next day, making up her mind that she would not be quite happy now until this affair was arranged, and resolved that if Jasper happened to be at home when she reached there, she would have a word to say to him.
Meanwhile, Sara's tranquillity, having been invaded by this new idea, was effectually destroyed. It had been her life-long habit to reverence and obey Miss Prue; if she went against her in this matter it would be an unprecedented event. Then she could not but realize what a fine match it would be in a worldly point of view, allying her with those families she had, all her life, been taught to consider as first in her little world. It would give her dear ones certain comfort and herself rest from care and anxiety; she knew well what a warm nest Jasper's wife would step into, admired, petted, and cousined by relatives innumerable. Last of all, it would ally her to a young man she had always liked, and could thoroughly respect as well; one too, who would, she felt certain, be a tender, loyal mate. What was there against it? Why—as Molly would say— didn't she "jump at the chance"?
She felt really indignant at herself for her own perverseness; but, though she would not tell herself the reason why, she felt this thing to be impossible.
Better struggle along under her burdens as she had been doing, rather than go so reluctantly to that true and tender heart.
"Oh, I wish she had not spoken!" she whispered to herself passionately one day as these thoughts kept tormenting her. "I never knew Miss Prue to do so unkind a thing before! But why do I think about it? It's time enough to worry when Jasper speaks. Perhaps she's mistaken after all!" and she tried to content herself in this belief.
When a letter came from her old friend, giving a lively description of her journey home, and of a disgraceful squabble between Polly and a tiny pug, in which the former blasphemed, and the latter barked bravely from the arms of his mistress, until the wrathful conductor bundled both off into the baggage-car, but saying nothing of Jasper, except a casual remark that his schooner was expected in soon, she felt relieved.
"I have been making too much of nothing!" she said, and blushed all to herself at the thought that her vanity alone had caused her all these pangs.
CHAPTER XIX.
BERTHA GILLETTE.
There was a great deal of sickness that summer in Dartmoor, and much suffering among the poor. Sara, having little or no money to spare, felt she could only give herself, and thus set apart her Saturday afternoons (upon which she was now free from museum work) to visit the sick whenever she was needed, the circle to which she belonged having systematized this charity that it might not fall too heavily upon any one.