“Yes,” said Brenda, “I am starving.”
“And so am I,” said Florence.
“Dinner is quite ready. Shall we all go into the dining-room?”
They went, the two fresh girls and the woman with the dyed hair, who imagined herself just as young as they—or rather tried to imagine herself their equal with regard to age. Mrs Fortescue looked at them with approval. She fancied she saw great success both for herself and Florence in Florence’s face. Of course Florence would make a brilliant match. Some one would fall in love with her—if possible, some one with a title. Brenda must be content with a humbler fate, but she, too, would secure a mate. When Florence was not by, she was an exceedingly nice-looking girl, so placid and gentle and clever-looking. Mrs Fortescue was very proud of Brenda’s cleverness. She liked to draw her out to talk on philosophical subjects. It was quite wonderful to hear her; and then that little tone—not of unbelief, oh no; but doubt, yes, doubt—was quite exciting and charming.
Brenda could talk better than Florence. The clergyman of the parish, Mr Russell, was unmarried. He would be an excellent husband for Brenda, just the very man, who would begin by converting her to truly orthodox views, and then would assure her how deeply he loved her. She would settle down at Langdale as the rector’s wife. It would be an excellent position and very nice for Mrs Fortescue, who, of course, would be always dear Brenda’s right hand, her mainstay in any perplexity. She knew that the rector’s wife would hold an excellent position in a small town like Langdale. She would be the first lady in the place. To her would be given the task of leading what society there was to lead. She would have to discern the sheep from the goats. Those who were not admitted within the charmed circle would not be worth knowing.
Mrs Fortescue thought of all these things as she looked at Brenda across the dinner-table.
Presently, Florence laughed.
“What is the matter, dear?” said Mrs Fortescue.
“It seems quite incomprehensible,” said Florence.
“What, my love? What do you mean?”