Miss Agnace assented silently.
“And when you go as usual to Mr St. Cyr’s, remember you are to say nothing of this foolish fancy of Miss Selina’s. He could do nothing, even if he understood; and they will soon be out of his hands, and the sooner the better for all concerned. You understand what I wish, do you not?”
Again Miss Agnace assented in silence. She was by no means sure how all this would seem to her, when she should have time to think it over, but there was nothing to be said. She was not bound to obey blindly Madame Precoe’s commands, except as they expressed the will of Father Jerome also; and in the single moment in which she permitted herself to question, a great many unhappy thoughts rushed into her mind. And they would not be put away, even when it became clear to her that for the plans with regard to the future of these children, and all that they involved, Father Jerome was responsible. Madame Precoe was but an instrument in his hands, as she herself was. Father Jerome must not be accused of doing wrong—at least, the end he had in view was right, and that ought to be enough.
Ought it to be enough? Poor Sister Agnace had never been in the habit of deciding between right and wrong for herself, and she was sadly puzzled now. It was such a pity, she thought, that it was necessary to deceive these children for their good. There would be strong resistance on their part, she began to fear, to the power that was shaping their fate.
“And they will suffer. Oh! how they will suffer?” said the poor anxious creature to herself. “But it is for their souls’ sake, and their suffering will only be for this world; and surely, Mary and the saints will soften their trouble, poor darlings! Father Jerome must, of course, be right. But it hurts me to deceive them, because they love me a little, and trust me.”
She went that night to pay her usual monthly visit to Mr St. Cyr. She answered his questions. She told him no lie, but she kept silence, as Madame had bidden her, about all that could have awakened the anxiety of their friend and guardian on their account. Unintentionally she made him aware that Madame Precoe was living with them; but he said nothing.
He thanked Miss Agnace for her care of the girls and their mother, and for her love and faithfulness to them, and expressed a hope that as long as they should need her, she might be permitted to remain with them. Poor Miss Agnace! She went into a church on her way home, and knelt for a long hour or two in the cold and darkness, but she carried still her burden of doubt and care when she went away.
A few more weeks passed away. Frederica said nothing now about going to her father, for they were not without hope that when the spring came he might return home. He longed very much to come, they knew, and they permitted themselves to hope, almost to believe, that they would see him again, and waited for his coning with what patience they could command.
Tessie went to school again after the Easter holidays, and they missed her sadly. But they both strove conscientiously, not only to be patient, but to be happy, in the great lonely house that had so changed to them. But waiting is weary work to young and eager hearts, and time passed slowly.
The day for Tessie’s first visit came, and they amused themselves making preparations for her entertainment. But hour after hour passed, and she did not appear. Instead of Tessie, came Madame with her work-basket in her hand, and with the evident intention of remaining. It was not a pleasant prospect, and it is to be feared they were not quite able to hide their discomfort under it.