‘Oh, mother!’ Letty protested. And she added, less seriously, ‘You mustn’t let Alfred hear you say such a thing as that.’
‘I’m glad to say,’ replied Mrs. Waltham, ‘that Alfred has grown much more sensible in his views of late.’
Adela entered the room. Letty was not wrong in saying that she grew more beautiful. Life had few joys for her, save intellectual, but you saw on her countenance the light of freedom. In her manner there was an unconscious dignity which made her position in the house one of recognised superiority; even her mother seldom ventured to chat without reserve in her presence. Alfred drew up in the midst of a tirade if she but seemed about to speak. Yet it was happiness to live with her; where she moved there breathed an air of purity and sweetness.
She asked if Alice had returned from her walk. Receiving a reply in the negative, she went out into the garden.
‘Adela looks happy to-day,’ said Letty. ‘That article in the paper has pleased her very much.’
‘I really hope she won’t do such a thing again,’ remarked Mrs. Waltham, with dignified disapproval. ‘It seems very unlady-like to write letters to the newspapers.’
‘But it was brave of her.’
‘To be sure, we must not judge her as we should ordinary people. Still, I am not sure that she is always right. I shall never allow that she did right in paying back that money to those wretches in London. I am sure she wanted it far more than they did. The bloodthirsty creatures!’
Letty shuddered, but would not abandon defence of Adela.
‘Still it was very honourable of her, mother. She understands those things better than we can.’