“Sometimes—once or twice! Don’t be angry. I know you would be true and loyal, but sometimes—I saw you watching her—”
“She is very lovely, Babs; the loveliest woman I have ever seen. There was some excuse for that.”
“I know, I feel it myself, and it was just because I could understand a little that I spoke. I thought quite likely that you might be angry at first, but it was better that you should be that than wretched in the end.”
“Quite so; but I am not angry at all, only very grateful for your bravery in tackling a difficult subject. I have a pretty good opinion of myself, but I am only a man, and other men have imagined themselves secure and found out their mistake before now. Forewarned is forearmed. Thank you for the warning,” and he smiled at me with a sudden flash of the eyes which left me hot and breathless.
Was I in time? Had he really begun to care for Vere so soon as this? I longed to say more, but dared not. All my courage had gone, and I was thankful when father came out of the cottage and put an end to our tête-à-tête.
I thought there would be a difference after this, but there wasn’t—not a bit. When Will came to the house he was as nice as ever to Vere, and seemed quite willing to be monopolised as much as she liked. If he avoided anyone it was me, and I was not a bit surprised. People may say what they like, but they do bear you a grudge for giving them good advice. I sat in a corner and made cynical reflections to myself, and nobody took any notice of me, and I felt more cynical than ever, and went to my bedroom and banged about the furniture to relieve my feelings.
Vere came into my room soon after, and stood by the window talking while I brushed my hair. The blind was up, for it was moonlight and I hate to shut it out. Her dress was of some soft silvery stuff, and, standing there in the pale blue light, she looked oh, so lovely, more like a fairy than a human creature! I am so glad I admired her then; I’m glad I told her that I did; I’m glad, glad, glad that I was nice and loving as a sister ought to be, and that we kissed and put our arms round each other when we said good night.
“Sleep well, little girl, you look tired. We can’t let you lose your bonny colour,” she said, in her, pretty caressing way; nobody can be as sweet as Vere when she likes.
I was tired, but I sat by the window for quite a long time after she left, thinking, thinking, thinking. I can’t tell what I thought exactly, so many things passed through my head, and when I said my prayers I hardly said any words at all; I just put down my head and trusted God to understand me better than I did myself. I had so much to make me happy, but I was not happy somehow. I had so much to make me content, yet there was something missing that made everything else seem blank. I wanted to be good, and such horrid, envious feelings rose up in my heart. In my dear little room, at my own dear little table, I asked God to help me, and to take care of me whatever happened.
And He did, but it was not in the way I expected.