Hester Martin frankly thought the sister odious, and pitied the bride for having to live with her. All the same she often found herself wondering how Nelly would ever manage the practical business of life alone, supposing loneliness fell to her at any time. But why should it fall to her?—unless indeed Sarratt were killed in action. If he survived the war he would make her the best of guides and husbands; she would have children; and her sweetness, her sensitiveness would stiffen under the impact of life to a serviceable toughness. But meanwhile what could she do—poor little Ariadne!—but 'live and be lovely'—sew and knit, and gather sphagnum moss—dreaming half her time, and no doubt crying half the night. What dark circles already round the beautiful eyes! And how transparent were the girl's delicate hands! Miss Martin felt that she was watching a creature on whom love had been acting with a concentrated and stimulating energy, bringing the whole being suddenly and rapidly into flower. And now, what had been only stimulus and warmth had become strain, and, sometimes, anguish, or fear. The poor drooping plant could with difficulty maintain itself.
For the moment however, Nelly, in her vast relief, was ready to talk and think of quite ordinary matters.
'Bridget is in a good temper with me to-day!' she said presently, looking with a smile at her companion—'because—since the telegram came—I told her I would accept Miss Farrell's invitation to go and spend a Sunday with them.'
'Well, it might distract you. But you needn't expect to get much out of
Cicely!'
The old face lit up with its tolerant, half-sarcastic smile.
'I shall be dreadfully afraid of her!' said Nelly.
'No need to be. William will keep her in order. She is a foolish woman, Cicely, and her own worst enemy, but—somehow'—The speaker paused. She was about to say—'somehow I am fond of her'—when she suddenly wondered whether the remark would be true, and stopped herself.
'I think she's very—very good-looking'—said Nelly, heartily. 'Only, why'—she hesitated, but her half-laughing look continued the sentence.
'Why does she blacken her eyebrows, and paint her lips, and powder her cheeks? Is that what you mean?'
Nelly's look was apologetic. 'She doesn't really want it, does she?' she said shyly, as though remembering that she was speaking to a kinswoman of the person discussed. 'She could do so well without it.'