“But, Bessie——”
“Wait a minute, dear; I seem to see it so clearly. You have work, only you are throwing it aside and asking for more. ‘Thou earnest not to thy place by accident; it is the very place God meant for thee.’ Don’t you remember those lines? Surely, surely, an only daughter’s place must be with her mother; to make her happy must be no light duty. You are her one thought from morning to night; it breaks her heart to see you unhappy. Edna, if your mother died, and you had not tried to make her happy!”
“Do you mean—oh, I see what you mean, but I am too selfish to find it out for myself. I am only thinking of my own good, not of her at all. I have never been good to her; she gives all, and I just take it.”
“Make her your work,” whispered Bessie, “and bye and bye comfort will come to you, as it would not in any hospital, in any self-chosen duty; for where God puts us, He must find us, or we shall have to give an account of why we have erred and strayed,” finished Bessie reverently.
CHAPTER XXI.
ON THE PARADE.
Bessie had spoken out of the simplicity of her honest heart; but there is a great power in earnestness, and her words were not to fall to the ground. In spite of Edna’s faults, many and glaring as they were, she was very susceptible to good influences; her affection for Neville Sinclair proved this, as well as her friendship with Bessie; underneath the leaven of selfishness and self-will engendered by a false education there was a large margin of generosity and truth; if she were quick to sin, she was also quick to repent.
Edna did not again allude to the subject of her unhappiness; there were no more fireside confidences with Bessie, but for two or three days she was very quiet and thoughtful, and there were no excited moods of merriment to jar on Bessie. She was gentle and affectionate in her manner to her mother, and this unusual docility seemed to add to Mrs. Sefton’s uneasiness.
Bessie did not feel comfortable in her mind about Edna; the old spring and elasticity seemed gone forever; there was manifest effort in everything she did through the day, and yet she never rested willingly. She laid out plans for every hour, she made appointments with her friends; every day there was driving, shopping, tea-drinking, often a concert or recitation to finish off the evening; but now and then, in the midst of a lively conversation, there would be the look of utter exhaustion on her face, and when her friends had left she would throw herself on the couch as though all strength had gone. On these occasions, when she was spent and weary, it was not always easy to control her irritability. Mrs. Sefton was not a judicious woman, and, in spite of her devotion to her daughter, she often showed a want of tact and a lack of wisdom that galled Edna’s jaded spirits. She was always urging Edna to seek new distractions, or appealing to her sense of vanity.