"It is the best plan I can think of, but do not mistake me. If Hetty comes here it will be expressly understood by her and others that she is not to be brought up as my own daughter. She will merely enjoy the security of the shelter of our roof, and will receive a good education such as will fit her to provide, later, for herself."
"Will it be easy to carry out this plan?" asked Mrs. Enderby.
"That I must leave to you, my dear. You are firm enough and wise enough to succeed where others would probably fail. The only alternative that I can think of is to send her to an expensive school where she will certainly not be prepared for the battle of life. As for sending her to a lower style of place, and making a charity girl of her after all that has been done to accustom her to the society of well-bred people, the bare thought of such injustice makes me angry."
Mrs. Enderby looked admiringly at her husband.
"You are right," she said; "and I will try to carry out your plan. It will add greatly to my cares, for I fear Hetty's will be a difficult nature to deal with, especially when she finds herself in so uncertain a position in our house."
The next day Mrs. Enderby drove over to Amber Hill and desired Mrs. Benson to send Hetty to her in the morning-room. When the child appeared she was greatly struck by the traces of suffering on her countenance, and felt renewed anxiety as to the difficulty of carrying out her husband's wishes.
"My child," she said kindly, taking the little girl's hand and drawing her to her knees, "I have a good deal to say to you, and I hope you will try to understand me perfectly."
Hetty gave her one swift upward glance in which there was keen expectation, mingled with more of fear than hope.
"I will try," she whispered.
"You know, my dear, that Mrs. Rushton was very good to you while she lived, yet you had no real claim on her, and now that she is gone you are as much alone as if you had never seen her."