“Yes, I mean it,” interposed Lavinia very quietly. “You and Nancy will be better without me; perhaps happier.”
He looked at her for a full minute in silence, then laughed a little. “Like Darby and Joan,” he remarked, as he put his writing-case on the table and sat down to it.
Mrs. Fennel returned to her chair by Lavinia, who was sitting close to the window mending a lace collar which had been torn in the ironing. As usual Nancy was doing nothing.
“You couldn’t leave me, Lavinia, you know,” she said in coaxing tones.
“I know that I never thought to do so, Ann, but circumstances alter cases,” answered the elder sister. Both of them had dropped their voices to a low key, not to disturb the letter-writer. But he could hear if he chose to listen. “I began putting my things together yesterday, and shall finish doing it at leisure. I will stay over Easter with you; but go then I shall.”
“You must be cruel to think of such a thing, Lavinia.”
“Not cruel,” corrected Lavinia. “I am sorry, Ann, but the step is forced upon me. The anxieties in regard to money matters are wearing me out; they would wear me out altogether if I did not end them. And there are other things which urge upon me the expediency of departure from this house.”
“What things?”
“I cannot speak of them. Never mind what they are, Ann. They concern myself; not you.”