“Never mind her, Mil!” she cried. “Don’t cry. You couldn’t possibly have anything prettier than the blue crepe,” but at this Mildred raised her face in eager protest.
“Oh, I’m not crying about that! I don’t care a rap about the dress, but—but she made me so furious. It had been going on all morning, and I c-couldn’t bear it any longer. I am so ashamed. I can’t bear to think of it. I don’t know what I said.”
The twins exchanged furtive glances.
“You called her ‘an interfering, disagreeable old woman’!” whispered Bertha with bated breath, glancing half fearfully at the door as she spoke. “I—I felt as if the world were coming to an end! As if the ceiling would fall down over our heads! Oh, Mil, you should have seen her face! I never saw anyone look so astonished in my life, but the curious part of it is that I don’t think she was angry. She knew she had no right to speak as she had done, and I believe she admired you for being indignant. Perhaps you will be better friends after this.”
“No, we won’t!” said Mildred, setting her chin stubbornly; “because I won’t, if she will. I’ll never forgive her. It is not Lady Sarah I care about—it is your mother. Oh, I can’t forget her face, she looked so shocked! She stared at me with such horrified eyes. Is she awfully angry, do you think?”
“I haven’t spoken to her. She sent us out of the room directly after you left, but she didn’t seem angry, only quiet and grieved.”
“Oh, oh, oh! what shall I do? I hate people to be grieved! I detest it! It’s fifty thousand times worse than being angry. If people are angry you can defend yourself and take your own part, but if they are ‘grieved’ you can only feel a wretch, as if you had no right to live. Oh, dear, what will she think of me! It was only the other day she was saying that I kept my temper so well, and now I’ve disgraced myself for ever! She will never, never forgive me!”
Before the girls could say anything by way of comfort, Mrs Faucit herself entered the room and walked straight towards the couch on which Mildred was sitting. She looked pale and distressed, but the manner in which she put her arm round the girl’s waist was certainly not suggestive of anger.
“I am so very sorry that this scene should have occurred, Mildred,” she said; “but I have been having a talk with Lady Sarah, and she takes all the blame upon herself. She is sorry that she spoke as she did, and I think she will be more considerate of your feelings for the future. I said the other day that I knew you must often feel provoked, and how pleased I felt to know that you controlled your temper. I wish, dear,” she sighed heavily, “I wish you had gone on as you began! It would have been a great relief to me; but perhaps it was too much to expect. You are young and impulsive.”
“Oh, no, no! don’t make excuses! I am a wretch, I know I am!” sobbed Mildred penitently. “It was hateful of me to speak rudely to a guest of yours—so old, too. Mother would be miserable if she knew. But it was so maddening! I bore it as long as she found fault with me, but when she began criticising Mother—saying that she didn’t dress me properly, and had no right to allow me to come here,—I couldn’t keep quiet any longer—I couldn’t! It made me too furious. I was obliged to explode.”