Hildegarde "saw scarlet." "Aunt Emily," she said, "blame me if you will; but I cannot suffer any reflection on my mother. I do not consider that it would be possible for any one to be more careful of every sensible propriety than my mother is; though she does not mould her conduct on the opinions of servants!" she added. She should not have said this, and was aware of it instantly; but the provocation had been great.
"You admit that your mother is human?" said the old lady, grimly. "She has faults, I presume, in common with the rest of humankind?"
"She may have!" said Hildegarde. "I have never observed them."
Silence again. Hildegarde tried to eat her chicken, but every morsel seemed to choke her; her heart beat painfully, and she saw through a mist of angry tears. Oh, why had she come here? What would she not give to be at home again!
Presently Mrs. Delansing spoke again, and her tone was perceptibly gentler.
"My dear, you must not think that I mean to be unkind, nor did I mean—consciously—to reflect upon your mother, for whom your affection is commendable, though perhaps strongly expressed."
"I am sorry!" said Hildegarde, impulsively. "I ought not to have spoken so. I beg your pardon, Aunt Emily!"
Mrs. Delansing bowed. "You are freely pardoned! I was about to say, when this little interruption occurred, that I had hoped you could be content for a few days under my roof, without seeking pleasure elsewhere; but age is poor company for youth."
"But you could not see me this morning, Aunt Emily! You said last night that you never saw anybody before lunch. And what should I do in my room? It is a charming room, but you surely did not expect me to stay in it all the morning, doing nothing?"
"I should have thought you might find plenty of occupation!" said Mrs. Delansing. "In my time it was thought not too much for a young lady to devote the greater part of the day to the care of her person; this, of course, included fine needlework and other feminine occupations."