"I hope your youngest daughter is well, and Miss Torrington also?" said Mr. Cartwright.
"Quite well, thank you. Helen, do you know where your sister is?"
"In the library, I believe, mamma."
"Miss Cartwright, would you not like some refreshment?... Do ring the bell, Helen. I am sure, Mrs. Simpson, you ought to take some wine-and-water after your long walk."
It was not difficult to see that this civility was the result of a strong and painful effort on the part of Mrs. Mowbray, and Helen was provoked with the whole party for not declining it; but no choice was left her—the bell was rung, and the tray arrived. One comfort she had, and that no trifling one: neither herself nor her mother had any further occasion to seek subjects of conversation; Mrs. Simpson took the whole of this troublesome business upon herself, and for the period that the luncheon lasted was so completely engaged in eating and talking, that she had not time for a single sigh.
The two gentlemen and the little girl were very nearly as busily employed as herself; but Miss Cartwright sat silently apart, and a feeling as nearly allied perhaps to curiosity as politeness, induced Helen to change her place and seat herself near her.
"Will you not take some refreshment, Miss Cartwright?... Let me get you some grapes."
"I thank you—none."
"Not even a little soda-water and wine? The morning seems unusually warm."
"Nothing, I thank you."