Chapter Fifteen.
Miss Carr’s Choice.
Wednesday was a day of great, though suppressed excitement, and when evening came, and Miss Carr summoned the girls into the drawing-room, it would be difficult to say which of the three felt the more acute anxiety. Mr Rayner had considerately taken himself out of the way, but Mr Bertrand was seated in an easy chair, his arms folded, his face grave and set. Miss Carr pointed to the sofa, and the three girls sat down, turning inquiring eyes on her face. It was horribly formal, and even Norah felt cowed and spiritless.
“Girls,” said Miss Carr slowly, “it was my intention to say nothing about my plans until I had made my decision, but it seems that your father has forestalled me and told you of my wishes. ... When you were little children I saw a great deal of you. Your father was one of my most valued friends, your dear mother also, and you were often at my house. When you came here I felt a great blank in my life, for I am fond of young people, and like to have them about me. Last January, your father visited me, and told me of a conversation which he had had with you here. He was anxious about your future, and it occurred to me that in some slight degree I might be able to take the responsibility off his hands. I have felt the need of a companion, and of some fresh interest in life, and nothing could give me more pleasure than to help one of Austin Bertrand’s daughters. Well, my dears, I spoke to your father: he did not like the idea at first, as you will understand, but in the end he gave way to my wishes, and it only remained to make my choice. When I use the word ‘choice,’ you must not imagine that I am consulting merely my own preference. I have honestly tried to study the question from an unselfish point of view—to think which of you would most benefit from the change. One consideration has influenced me of which I can only speak in private, but for the rest I have watched you carefully, and it seemed to me that two out of the three have already a definite interest and occupation in their lives, which is wanting in the other case. Lettice has no special work in the house, no pet study to pursue; therefore, my dears, I choose Lettice—”
There was a simultaneous exclamation of consternation.
“Lettice!” cried Hilary, and drew in her breath with a pang of bitterest disappointment.
“Lettice! Oh, no, no, no!” cried Norah, throwing her arms round her favourite sister, and trembling with agitation.
“My little Lettice!” echoed Mr Bertrand, with a groan of such genuine dismay, that Miss Carr stared at him in discomfiture.
“My dear Austin—if it makes you so unhappy—”
“No—no. I gave you my word, and I am not going back. Besides,” with a kindly glance at the other two girls, “I should have felt the same, whichever way you had decided. Well, that’s settled! I am off now, Helen. We can have our talk later.”