It was not that she envied Esmeralda her happiness—Bridgie had none of the dog in the manger in her composition—but she felt suddenly oppressed by loneliness and a sense of want, which the quiet home-life failed to satisfy. Once she had imagined that this happiness would be hers in the future, but that hope was dead, and it did not seem possible that it could ever come to life again. Even if by chance she met Dick Victor in the future, what explanation could he have to offer which would wipe away the reproach of that long silence? Bridgie hoped they might never meet; it would be too painful to see her idol dethroned from his pedestal.
“Are they worth a penny, dear? I’ve asked you the same question twice over!” cried Esmeralda mischievously, and Bridgie came back to the present with a shock of remembrance.
“I was wool-gathering again. So sorry! What did you want to know?”
“I was talking about our invitations. Do you want any cards for friends? Is there anyone whom you would like me to ask?”
“Lottie Vane, please, and Mr and Mrs Wallace,” cried Pixie eagerly, and Esmeralda smiled at the first name, and frowned at the second. She remembered having seen the Vanes at a school festival, and being favourably impressed by their appearance, but the name of Wallace was still repugnant to her ears, and could not be heard unmoved.
She did not care, however, to appear ungracious in Geoffrey’s presence, and reflected that it might be judicious to impress Pixie’s employers with the grandeur of the O’Shaughnessy family, and thus nip in the bud any ideas of patronage. A moment later she was thankful that she had made no objections, as Sylvia Trevor’s name from Bridgie’s lips convinced her that here at least a stand must be made.
“Oh, my dear, it is no use asking Miss Trevor. She is lame, and I shall have enough to do without looking after invalids.”
“She would come with us, and we would take care of her. The boys are so fond of Sylvia. They’d think it a pleasure!” pleaded innocent Bridgie, all unconscious of the fatal nature of her argument, and Esmeralda frowned again and said impatiently—
“She’d much better stay at home. Crowded rooms are no place for people who need such care.”
“No, but that is all the more reason why she should get what enjoyment she can. She would love one of the receptions you spoke of, when you will have music and other entertainments, and her limp can scarcely be noticed now. She would be no trouble to you. You asked her to visit you in Ireland, Esmeralda!”