“Give her a word, good or bad, and she’d spin such a web from the hint,
And colour a meaningless phrase with so vivid a lint.”
Hilda.
It was a lovely evening when the little party arrived at their destination. Many people had noticed them during their long journey, the two pretty sisters and the children, with no one but their old servant to take care of them; for their deep mourning told its own story. Many a kindly heart thought pityingly of them, and sent silent good wishes with them on their way.
There had been some talk of their staying a day or two in London, in which case Mr Auriol would have met them. But this Lettice, the ruling spirit, vetoed.
“Let us get straight to that place,” she said, “and have it over.”
What she meant Nina did not very well understand. She supposed her to refer to the meeting with Miss Branksome, the lady-companion, or “chaperone,” whom Mr Auriol had engaged, and who was to await them at Faxleham Cottage. Nina herself was not without some anticipatory awe of this person, but it was tempered by a strong feeling of pity. And once, when she alluded to her in speaking to Lettice, she was almost amazed to find that her sister shared the latter.
“Poor woman!” said Lettice gravely, “she has undertaken a hard task. I could almost find it in my heart to be sorry for her.”
Nina could not help smiling as she replied, “But it need not be a hard task, Lettice; not—not unless we make it so for her.”
“False positions are always hard,” said Lettice oracularly. “She is coming to take care of us, and we don’t want or need to be taken care of.”
Then, a moment after, she surprised Nina by asking her to write to Mr Auriol to tell him when they were starting, and when they expected to reach Faxleham, as she had promised to let him know.
“I am so tired,” she said, which was an unusual confession, “and I should be so glad if you would do it for me. Besides, he likes you so much better than me; he will be pleased to get a letter from you.”