“Do you mean that I should become the housekeeper here?”
“Yes; I do.”
Vivienne started. “Oh, I am only here for a short time; I could not think of remaining.” Stargarde looked at her affectionately and with some curiosity, and seeing this the girl went on hastily, “Mrs. Colonibel’s husband is dead, is he not?”
“Yes; he was much older than she was.”
“And her stay here depends upon her cousin, Mr. Armour?”
“Yes; he gives her a handsome salary.”
“It is rather surprising then that she does not try to please him in every respect.”
Stargarde’s eyes lighted up with brilliant indignation. “You bring me to one of my hobbies,” she exclaimed. “I think that if there is one class of people on whom the wrath of God rests more heavily than on others, it is on the good Christian people who, wrapped around in their own virtues, bring up their children in an atmosphere of pagan idolatry. In not one single particle is the child taught to control itself. The very moon and stars would be plucked from the sky if the parent had the power to gratify the child in that way. Nothing, nothing is denied it. And what happens? The parent dies, the child with its shameless disregard of the rights of others is let loose in the world. With what disastrous results we see in the case of Flora Colonibel. Oh, pity her, pity her, my child,” and Stargarde gazed imploringly at Vivienne, her blue eyes dimmed with tears.
Vivienne witnessed Stargarde’s emotion with a kind of awe, and by a gentle glance essayed to comfort her. The woman smiled through her tears, held up her golden head bravely, like a child that has accomplished its season of mourning and is willing to be cheerful, and said steadily: “I rarely discuss Flora—it is too painful a subject—but you are gentle and good; I wish to enlist your sympathies in her favor. You understand?”
“I will try to like her,” said Vivienne with great simplicity, “for your sake.”