All this time Frances's eyes had been fixed on her plate; she had scarcely dared to breathe since her aunt's allusion. Now she looked up, bravely, though her cheeks were flaming and her heart beating as if to choke her. An inner voice seemed to tell her that the moment had come for something to be said—the something which even Camilla Harper in her letter had not debarred her from, which her own mother had hoped some opportunity might arise for.
And in spite of Jacinth's stony face, and her aunt's evident wish to change the subject which she herself had brought on to the tapis, Frances spoke out.
'Yes, Lady Myrtle,' she said clearly. 'It was I that spoke about Bessie and Margaret Harper. They were at school with us then, and before that, their big sister Camilla was there. But they've left now, I'm afraid,' and her voice trembled a little. 'I think it's because their father's very ill, and it costs a lot, and they're not at all rich. They're the very nicest girls in the world; oh, they are so good and nice.—You said so too, Jacinth?'
Lady Myrtle's eyes turned to Jacinth.
'Yes,' the elder girl replied coldly; 'I believe they are very nice girls. But I did not know them nearly as well as you, Frances. I do not care for making friends as you do.'
'No,' said Frances, rather lamely. 'I know you don't; but still I'd like you to tell Lady Myrtle how nice they are.'
'Why should it interest Lady Myrtle to hear about your school-fellows, my dear?' said Miss Mildmay, surprised and a little annoyed by Frances's rather pertinacious manner. 'These girls are very nice, I have no doubt; indeed I recollect Miss Scarlett speaking very highly of them; but no one doubts it. I think all your school-fellows must be nice girls—not only the Harpers. And the name may be a mere coincidence. I have never heard certainly that they were of the Elvedon family.'
Lady Myrtle had not seemed to be attending to what Miss Mildmay said. She was speaking to herself.
'"Camilla,"' she murmured softly, '"Camilla" and "Margaret." Not "Bessie;" no I never heard of a Bessie, and "Margaret" is not uncommon. But "Camilla"—yes, I suppose it must be.'
But just as she said this, Miss Mildmay's last words—the good lady had rather an emphatic way of speaking—rang out clearly: 'I have never heard certainly that they were of the Elvedon family.'