But Claire's hand detained her.
"It is not that," she said gently, and smiled. "I forgot my ankle, and where I was, and everything. He was a good man, Miss Ansted; good and true to the heart's core, and his goodness was not oppressive, it was his joy. He has gone now to wear his crown, and I am proud to be his daughter Claire. But oh, there are times when the longing to see him rolls over me so that it swallows every other thought." And then the poor little teacher buried her head in the lace-trimmed pillows and cried outright!
"Mamma, what do you think! Louis, can you believe it possible? She is one of the Boston Benedicts! A daughter of that Sidney L. about whom we heard so much when we were with the Maitlands!"
"I heard he had gone to smash!" said Louis, when the first astonishment was over, "but I thought he had done it fashionably, and provided handsomely for his family."
CHAPTER XI.
A "FANATIC."
I DO not suppose people realize how much such things influence them. For instance, Alice Ansted was the sort of girl who would have been ashamed of herself had she realized how much more important a person Claire Benedict was to her as soon as it became known that she belonged to the Boston Benedicts. But the fact was very apparent to others, if not to Alice. She had been very glad, before this, to have Miss Benedict enjoy the comforts of the house, but now she hovered about her, and gave her crumbs of personal attention, and found a fascination in hearing her talk, and, in short, was interested in her to a degree that she could never have been simply in the poor music-teacher.
She brought her work one morning, and sat by the luxurious chair where Claire had been imprisoned, with her injured foot skillfully arranged on a hassock.