Miss Susan came in prepared for the examination she had to go through. Her aspect was cloudy, as it always was nowadays. She had not the assured air of dignified supremacy and proprietorship which she once had possessed; but the Farrel-Austins were not penetrating enough to perceive more than that she looked dull, which was what they scarcely expected. She gave a glance at Giovanna, still reclining indolently in her easy chair; and curiously enough, quite against her expectation, without warning or reason, Miss Susan felt herself moved by something like a thrill of pleasure! What did it mean? It meant that Farrel’s girls, whom she disliked, who were her natural enemies, were not fit to be named in comparison with this young woman who was her torment, her punishment, her bad angel; but at all events hers, on her side pitted with her against them. It was not an elevated sort of satisfaction, but such as it was it surprised her with a strange gleam of pleasure. She sat down near Giovanna, unconsciously ranging herself on that side against the other; and then she relapsed into common life, and gave her visitors a very circumstantial account of Herbert and Reine—how they had wished to come home at Christmas, but the doctors thought it more prudent to wait till May. Kate and Sophy listened eagerly, consulting each other, and comparing notes in frequent looks.
“Yes, poor fellow! of course May will be better,” said Kate, “though I should have said June myself. It is sometimes very cold in May. Of course he will always be very delicate; his constitution must be so shattered—”
“His constitution is not shattered at all,” said Miss Susan, irritated, as the friends of a convalescent so often are, by doubts of his strength. “Shattered constitutions come from quite different causes, Miss Kate—from what you call ‘fast’ living and wickedness. Herbert has the constitution of a child; he has no enemy but cold, and I hope we can take care of him here.”
“Oh, Kate meant no harm,” said Sophy; “we know he could never have been ‘fast.’ It is easy to keep straight when you haven’t health for anything else,” said this well-informed young woman.
“Hush!” said her sister in an audible whisper, catching hold of the baby to make a diversion. Then Kate aimed her little broadside too.
“We have been so pleased to make acquaintance with madame,” she said, using that title without any name, as badly instructed people are so apt to do. “It must be nice for you to feel yourself provided for, whatever happens. This, I hear, is the little heir?”
“Madame Suzanne,” interrupted Giovanna, “I have told ces dames that I am glad M. Herbert goes to get well. I hope he will live long and be happy. Jean, chéri! dis fort ‘Vive M. Herbert!’ as I taught you, that ces dames may hear.”
Johnny was armed with his usual weapon, the paper-knife, which on ordinary occasions Miss Susan could not endure to see in his hand; for I need not say it was her own pet weapon, which Giovanna in her ignorance had appropriated. He made a great flourish in the air with this falchion. “Vive M’sieu ’Erbert!” cried the child, his little round face flushed and shining with natural delight in his achievement. Giovanna snatched him up on her lap to kiss and applaud him, and Miss Susan, with a start of wonder, felt tears of pleasure come to her eyes. It was scarcely credible even to herself.
“Yes, he is the heir,” she said quickly, looking her assailants in the face, “that is, if Herbert has no children of his own. I am fortunate, as you say—more fortunate than your papa, Miss Kate.”
“Who has only girls,” said Sophy, coming to the rescue. “Poor papa! Though if we are not as good as the men, we must be poor creatures,” she added with a laugh; and this was a proposition which nobody attempted to deny.