When her visitors had left her Mrs. Ward still remained in the pleasant drawing-room. She sank into a low chair, folded her hands in her lap, and remained very still. Although she was only thirty-five years of age, she had been a widow for over ten years. She had married when quite a young girl, and had lost her husband and child before she was five-and-twenty. It was in her generous and noble nature to love most passionately and all too well. For a time after her terrible trouble she scarcely know how to bear her grief. Then she took it to the one place where such sorrow can be borne—namely, to the foot of the throne of God; and afterwards it occurred to her to devote her life to the education of others. She was quite well-off, and did not need to work for her living. But work, to a nature such as hers, was essential. She also needed the sympathy of others, and the love of others; and so, aided by her friends, her small but most select school in South Kensington was started.
From the very first it was a success. It was unlike many other schools, for the head-mistress had broader and nobler views of life. She loved all her girls, and they all loved her; but it was impossible for her not to like some girls more than others, and of all the girls at present at her school Aneta Lysle was the one she really loved best. There was also, it is sad to relate, a girl there whom she did not love, and that girl was Maggie Howland. There was nothing whatever with regard to Maggie that her mistress could lay hold of. She was quite aware of the girl’s fascination, and of her powerful influence over her schoolfellows. Nevertheless, she never thought of her without a sense of discomfort.
Maggie was one of the girls who were educated at Aylmer House for a very low fee; for Mrs. Ward was quite rich enough and generous enough to take girls who could not afford her full terms for very much less. Maggie’s fees, therefore, were almost nominal, and no one knew this fact better than Maggie herself and her mother, Mrs. Howland. None of her schoolfellows knew, for she learned just what they did, and had precisely the same advantages. She was treated just like the others. No one could guess that her circumstances were different. And certainly Maggie would never tell, but none the less did she in her heart hate her position.
As a matter of fact, Molly and Isabel Tristram were also coming to the school on specially low terms; but no one would know this. Maggie, however, suspected it, and intended, if necessary, to make the fact an added power over her young friends when they all assembled at Aylmer House.
“Yes,” said Mrs. Ward, half-aloud, half to herself, “I don’t quite trust Maggie Howland. But I cannot possibly dismiss her from the school. I may win her round to a loftier standard of life, but at present there is no doubt she 55 has not that high ideal in view which I think my other girls aim at.”
Between three and four o’clock that day Mrs. Ward received a telegram from Mr. Cardew. It contained the following words:
“After consideration, I have made up my mind to do myself the great honor of confiding my girls to your care. Their mother and I will write to you fully in a day or two.”
Mrs. Ward smiled when she received the telegram. “I will do my best for those children,” she said to herself.