“I know it will be dreadfully lonely at Millenbeck. Major Throckmorton loves to read, and I shall be a great interruption to his evenings. I don’t know how I shall treat Jack. Don’t you think it would be a good idea to get a companion—somebody who knows French?”
“You musn’t think of such a thing. Good heavens! a companion, with Throckmorton? You can learn more from him in one week than all the governesses in creation can teach you.”
“I didn’t say governess,” replied Jacqueline, with much dignity. “I said companion.”
Then, as Jacqueline leaned her head on Judith’s shoulder, Judith talked to her long and tenderly of the duty, the respect, the love she owed Throckmorton. Jacqueline listened attentively enough. When the little lecture was finished, Jacqueline whispered:
“I feel differently about it now. At first, I could only think of Millenbeck and a new piano, and doing just as I liked; but now, I will try—I will really try—not to vex Major Throckmorton.”
That was all that could be got out of her.
Judith went with her to her room, and did not leave it until Jacqueline was tucked in her big four-poster, with the ghastly white tester and dimity hangings. Jacqueline kissed her a dozen times before she went away. Judith, too, was loath to leave. As long as she was doing something for Jacqueline, she was doing something for Throckmorton. For was not Jacqueline Throckmorton’s now?