"He weighs us down with the sense of obligation," she said at length; "if he were really generous he would make the load lighter."
"He is a human being and imperfect," said poor Mrs. Dorriman, who, while acknowledging the truth of this, felt it came ungratefully from the lips of Grace Rivers, who owed him so much. "Now, Grace," she went on, after a thoughtful silence on the part of each, "let us examine into your other grievances. I think I have given you good reason for accepting the home my brother offers. It is not beautiful I own. It is to me everything I most dislike, but he chooses it and there is no use in wishing it to be bettered."
"Then you, too, are dependent upon him?" said Grace; "of course you are or you would not so surrender your house, the hills and rocks and river you have talked of so much, without a strong reason."
"I am not discussing my position or my grievances," said Mrs. Dorriman, stung by a careless word flung at random and making so perfect a hit.
But Grace, this new idea in her head, found Mrs. Dorriman much more tolerable to do with. She was a fellow-sufferer, and, as such, to be felt for; there was a perceptible change in her tone when she said,
"I think at our age we might see people sometimes. I get frightened when I think that perhaps all our youth may pass in this way and no possibility of a change."
"That is a very natural thought. I also have had the same idea. I have already spoken to my brother."
"And what does he say?" asked the girl eagerly.
"He agreed to make some effort; then poor Jean was ill, and everything has been left as it was."
"And now she is better you will speak again?"