“Did I misunderstand you?” asked Richard, astonished at this. “Did you wish me to take them, after all?”
“Of course not; what an absurd question! I would not have Edna go for worlds. Neville only said the other day how much he disliked the Grants, and how he hoped Edna kept them at a distance. I think he has heard something to Captain Grant’s disadvantage; but you know how wilful she is; you might have carried your point with a little tact and finesse, but you are always so clumsy with Edna.”
“You did not help me much,” returned Richard rather bitterly. “You left me to bear the brunt of Edna’s temper, as usual. Why did you not tell her yourself your reasons for disliking her to go? But, no; I am to be the scapegoat, as usual, and Edna will not speak to me for a week.” And so saying he pushed his chair away and walked to the window.
Mrs. Sefton did not answer her stepson. Most likely her conscience told her that his reproach was a just one. She only glanced at Bessie’s grieved face and downcast eyes, and proposed to retire.
The drawing-room was empty when they entered it, and as Bessie noticed Mrs. Sefton’s wistful look round the room, she said timidly:
“May I go and talk to Edna?”
“No, my dear; far better not,” was the reply. “Edna has a hot temper; she takes after her poor father in that. We must give her time to cool. I will go to her myself presently. She was very wrong to answer Richard in that way, but he has so little tact.”
Bessie did not trust herself to reply. She took her book to the window, that her hostess might not find it incumbent on her to talk, and in a short time Mrs. Sefton left the room. Richard entered it a moment later.
“Are you alone?” he asked, in some surprise. “I suppose my mother has gone up to Edna?”
“Yes; she is uneasy about her. Shall I play to you a little, Mr. Sefton? It is getting too dark to read.” Bessie made this overture as a sort of amends to Richard, and the friendly little act seemed to soothe him.