"What did mamma say to you about me?--and Margaret and Mary Anne? No good, I know. They are always abusing me."
"I did not see them. Mrs. Carleton St. John said they had all gone out to call on some old friend."
"You had no loss. Mamma you know; I don't say anything against her, though it was a shame of her to keep me at school so long; but Mary Anne and Margaret are the primmest old creatures you can picture. Why, they are going on for thirty! I sent them over a cap apiece the other day, in return for a little interference of theirs. Lottie Singleton took the parcel. Didn't it make them wild!"
A faint smile parted his lips.
"Where is Charlotte going to live?" resumed Rose. "Have you heard?"
"I have heard nothing. I believe my brother wrote to beg of her to go back to Alnwick, and remain there as long as she chose. But she declined."
"I know one thing--that I hope she'll not live with us," cried Rose, tossing back her golden curls. "Charlotte always was so domineering, and now--especially---- You are sure you observed no undue excitement of manner?" she broke off, after a pause.
"Why do you ask it? To me she appeared to be almost unnaturally calm."
"I think I'll tell you why," said thoughtless Rose. And forthwith she disclosed to Mr. St. John all she had heard from Nurse Brayford. It was lamentably imprudent of her, without doubt; but she meant no harm. And the notion she herself had gathered from the story was, that the trouble had temporarily touched Charlotte's brain, just as a passing fever will touch it. That was all the real thought of her heart; but her expressions were exaggerated as usual, meaning less than they implied. It had the effect of fully arousing Frederick St. John from his own care: and Rose was surprised to see him make so much of it.
"That Charlotte--that your sister at the time of the child's death was mad!" he repeated. "Surely not, Rose!"