“That is exactly why you should go on with your dependence. What can you do to support yourself?”
“If I cannot support myself by assisting Stargarde, I will teach.”
“What can you teach?”
“Everything that I have been taught.”
“Pardon me—a smattering of everything. You have received an ordinary boarding-school education, which is about the worst possible preparation for a teaching career. If I had intended you to teach I would have put you in a public school or a college.”
Vivienne looked steadfastly at him without speaking.
“Be content to do as I tell you,” he said, walking on and clasping his hands behind his back. “Your father served us well. As a lad I worshiped him. I plan to support you until the day of your death. If I die first, suitable provision will be made for you. As I told you I want you to remain at Pinewood for a time. Then you may go where you will. You are getting on well now. I detest those scenes that Flora delights in; you women know how to put a stop to such things, and I am glad that you have done so. I am glad too that Judy likes you—she leads a lonely life.”
Vivienne was not listening to him. To his surprise he found that she had dropped behind him and had struck an attitude of distress against a snowbank.
“She looks like the picture of her ancestress, Madame La Tour, defending her husband’s fort,” he muttered, hastening back to her.
“I am not faint,” said Vivienne feebly. “I am coming right on; but I have had a blow—such a blow, but”—proudly—"you will not see me break down again."