How very nearly had that delightful afternoon been spoiled. This was Molly’s thought; but it was the mother herself who had saved it. The dear little mother who wouldn’t like her children to be put out. And of course she was in such a lovely sleep. That queer attack she had had when Molly was in the room! But Molly would not let herself think of that. Mother was queer now and then, and sometimes the doctor had to be sent for in a hurry; but it was nothing serious. All mother’s attacks were just nervous storms, so the doctor called them. Signs of weakness, was Molly’s explanation. Oh, yes, the attack was nothing, nothing at all, and what a splendid time she and Ethel were having.
Chapter Nine.
The Truth about Mrs Aldworth.
When Marcia left the train at Hurst Castle station she was greeted by, a tall, very slender girl who was waiting on the platform to receive her. The girl had a sufficiently remarkable face to attract the attention of each person who saw her. It was never known in her short life that any one passed Angela St. Just without turning to look at her. Most people looked again after that first glance, but every one, man, woman, and child, bestowed at least one glance at that most radiant, most lovely face. It was difficult to describe Angela, for hers was not the beauty of mere feature; it was the beauty of a very loving, loyal, and noble soul which seemed, in some sort of way, to have got very close to her body, so close that its rays were always shining out. It shone in her eyes, causing them to have a peculiar limpid light, the sort of light which has been described as “Never seen on land or shore,” and the same spirit caused those smiles round the girl’s beautiful lips, and the kindly words which dropped from her mouth when she spoke, and the sympathy in her manner. For the rest, she was graceful with an abundance of chestnut hair, neatly formed and yet unremarkable features and a creamy white complexion. Her eyebrows were delicately formed, being long and sweeping, and slightly arched. Her eyes were also long, almost almond-shaped, of a soft and yet bright hazel. Her eyelashes were very thick and very dark, making the hazel eyes look almost black at a distance. The girl had all the advantages which a long train of noble ancestors could bestow upon her. Her education had been attended to in the most thorough manner, and now at the age of sixteen and a half, there could scarcely be seen a more perfect young creature than Angela St. Just.
“Oh, Angela,” said Marcia, as she found her hand clasped in that of Angela, “this is good. I have just been longing to see you.”
“And I to see you, Marcia. The carriage is waiting—I don’t mean the ordinary stiff carriage, but the pony trap. Uncle Herbert has lent it to me for the whole afternoon, and there are some delightful woods just a little way out of the town, where we can drive and have a picnic tea. I have brought all the materials for it in a basket in the little pony trap.”
Marcia naturally acceded to this delightful proposition, and the girls were soon driving rapidly over the country roads.
Marcia almost wondered as she leant back in the luxurious little carriage and watched her young companion, whether she were in a dream or not. This morning she had been a member of the Aldworths’ untidy, disorderly house. She herself was the one spirit of order within it. Now she was by Angela’s side, she was close to the most beautiful creature she had ever met, or ever hoped to meet.