“Yes,” assented Sylvia absently. She rose from her seat and, walking across the room, leant her elbow on the mantelpiece. There was something she wanted to say, and it was easier to say it with averted face. “Aunt Margaret, I want to ask you a question. Please tell me the truth. Shall I have any money? Was father able to provide for me? I know you are not well off, and I could not bear to be a burden to you. If I have no money of my own, I must try to earn some.”
“I should be telling you the truth, my dear, if I said that I knew less about it than you do yourself. Your father was very close about business matters—very close indeed. He was supposed to have a good business a few years ago, and was always very handsome in his ways, but he has grumbled a good deal of late, and I don’t know how things will be now he is gone. He had a lawsuit with an old partner in Ceylon, which hung on a long time. I don’t know if it is settled yet; and, if not, we shall have to let it drop. You can always have a home with me; but there will be nothing to spare for lawyers’ expenses. Give me a bird in the hand, as I said to your father the last time he was home.
“If the worst comes to the worst, you can give some music lessons in the neighbourhood. Mrs Burton was telling me on Monday that her little boy has quite a taste—picks out all the barrel-organ tunes on the piano with one finger. You might get him as a beginning.”
“Yes,” assented Sylvia faintly; and to herself she cried, “Oh, Jack dear—how good of you to love me! How good of you to give me something to live for! How dreadful, dreadful, dreadful I should be feeling now if you had not met me, and made the whole world different!”
Miss Munns was watching her anxiously, fearing a burst of tears, and was greatly relieved when she turned round and showed a composed and even smiling face. “I’ll find some work if it is necessary, auntie; and I’ll try to help you too. You have been very good to me, and I’m afraid I have been rather horrid sometimes. I thought of it when I was away, and determined to make a fresh start if you would forgive me this time. We are the only two left, and we ought to love each other.”
“I am sure I am very much attached to you, my dear. I was saying so to Miss O’Shaughnessy only to-day. I don’t deny that your manner is rather sharp at times, but there’s nothing like trouble for taming the spirits. I shouldn’t wonder if we got along much more happily after this. Miss Bridgie brought a little parcel for you—I mustn’t forget that. It is on that little table. She told me to give it to you at once.”
“What can it be, I wonder?—something I left over there by mistake, I suppose,” Sylvia said listlessly, as she unfolded the paper; but her expression altered the next moment as she beheld a flat leather case, inside which reposed a miniature painting of the same face which used to smile upon her from her own chimney-piece.
Surprise held her speechless, while a quick rush of tears testified more eloquently than words to the faithfulness of the portrait. The painting was exquisitely fine and soft, the setting the perfection of good taste in its handsome severity. It seemed at the moment just the greatest treasure which the world could offer. Who could have sent it?
Sylvia reluctantly handed the case for Miss Munns’s curious scrutiny, the while she opened the note which had fallen from the paper. Bridgie’s handwriting confronted her; but she had hardly time to marvel how so costly a gift could come from such an impecunious donor, before surprise number two confronted her in the opening words.
“Esmeralda told me to give you this miniature from myself, but I want you to know that it is entirely her idea and present from the beginning. As soon as she heard your sad news, she asked me to borrow the best photograph of your father, to be copied by the same artist who painted the Major for her. She has been to see how he was getting on almost every day, till the poor man was thankful to finish it, just to be rid of her, and here it is to welcome you, dear, and, we hope, to be a comfort to you, all your life.”