"What a brave, forgiving, sympathetic girl." There are tears in Lady Streathmere's kind eyes. She feels deeply interested in the story of this girl, whom Sir Barry Traleigh has been telling her about.
"She it is whom Burpee has decided to select for his wife." Sir Barry has been ordered by Lord Streathmere to tell his mother, and this is the way he tells her.
The music and acting go on, but Lady Streathmere, sitting there in her beautiful silk and lace dress, waving the feather fan she holds, pays no heed to anything but the words Sir Barry is uttering. No one could have told her better, for she had Sir Barry's word for it, that the woman who was to bear their old ancient name, was a woman faithful, honest, and true. So she thanked heaven Jantie was as good as Sir Barry said she was, and Lady Streathmere had to make up her mind to do the best she could with her future daughter-in-law.
"You will never have cause to feel ashamed of her, Lady Streathmere. Jantie is a lady in every sense of the word, but I feel rather certain that Burpee will find it a difficult matter to cage his pretty bird."
"Why?" Lady Streathmere asks, coldly. She is at a loss to see why anyone, let alone a poor, friendless girl like Miss Mackeith, should have the audacity to hesitate a moment when considering a match like Burpee, Lord Streathmere.
"Do not misunderstand me, Lady Streathmere. When you come to consider that the girl knows nothing of the honor in store for her, you will see there is some weight in my remark," he says, stiffly. He is not going to allow Lady Streathmere to snub him in that tone.
"Silly boy," she says playfully; going on earnestly, "you will pardon a mother's pride and anxiety. I did not wish to wound you, Sir Barry; you have told me very kindly, but I cannot help wishing that Burpee could have trusted his mother enough to have told me, what you have done, himself."
So when Burpee comes in later his mother greets him with a smiling look, and the faint-hearted lad knows Sir Barry has overcome all his difficulties for him, as far as Lady Streathmere's anger was concerned.
The next day, when Lord Streathmere, accompanied by Sir Barry, called at the convent of St. Marguerite, they heard that Sister Jean had been called away, to take charge of a person who was ill. Nothing could be learned about her farther. She had gone, and it was against the rules of the convent to give information to strangers concerning the habits or whereabouts of the inmates. Lord Streathmere was disconsolate. She was gone, and he had loved her so well. Now what was to become of him? It required Sir Barry's deepest chaffing powers to be called into play, in order to keep the disappointed boy from falling into despair.