"At least you might promise to drive over with us to Crossgill to-morrow; we are going to introduce Miss Marriott to the Cunninghams. Langley cannot go, and there will be a spare place in the waggonette." But Miss Faith would not promise. Two afternoons of pleasure would be unheard-of dissipation; she would never hear the last of it; and what would Cara do without her reading?
"As though we cared about that," muttered Garth, sotto voce; and then, as he returned from unlatching the little side gate, he paused a moment by Queenie. "There goes one of life's unsolved enigmas—a good woman thrown away on a selfish one. I know you agree with me, Miss Marriott; I can read it in your face."
Queenie gave him a bright, understanding smile. She had just finished a most artistic-looking patch in an old frock of Emmie's, and held it up in critical approval. "When people are so good they can hardly fail to be happy," she said with slightly qualified assent. Somehow she did not pity Miss Faith quite so much this afternoon; it was a little contrary of her perhaps, but then, had she not gone away with Garth's roses in her belt? and had he not called her his patron saint, and hinted that she was necessary to him, to them all? Queenie felt that even Miss Faith's life was not quite devoid of all sweetness when such speeches as these were made to her. Garth had not sufficient vanity to guess at these thoughts, but he seemed quite disposed to linger by Queenie's side and argue out the matter. He had been quite absorbed by Miss Faith's conversation while she remained; and now it would be refreshing to turn to Queenie. It did not occur to him to pick roses for her, but he stood beside her, and watched her deft fingers move swiftly over her work, with a lazy sort of pleasure.
"No one could doubt her goodness," he went on, taking up the thread of his argument; "the question is, is she quite right to give up her own will so entirely to her sister? One may be good and self-sacrificing, and yet preserve one's individuality."
"I think she is not quite sufficiently strong-minded."
"Don't; if you knew how I hate that word! it is Miss Charity's war-cry. Women do not need to be strong-minded, they ought to be pliant, yielding, ready to take impressions; a woman with an inflexible will is a man in disguise. If Miss Charity had married—poor thing, she might have done so once, and have rued taking the step to her dying day—she would have ruled her husband with a rod of iron, much as she rules Miss Faith."
"I suppose she is fond of her," doubtfully.
"Oh yes; tyranny does not exclude affection, at least among women," was the grim answer. "Miss Charity is only forming her sister's education, moulding her taste, in fact; she little knows how all the maxims slide off her like the rain off a duck's back. Away from her sister she is a different creature—dares to hold her own opinions, and to own to her own modest tastes. I call Miss Faith, exquisitely feminine; don't you think that is the word for her, Miss Marriott?"
"Yes," replied Queenie hesitating. It was very pleasant to have Garth there beside her, talking on any subject; but she almost wished that he would praise Miss Faith a little less. How did she know, Cathy might be wrong after all; Miss Faith was only seven years his senior, and there were so few people in Hepshaw. Queenie was still too young to know how silent a man generally is on the merits of a woman he actually loves.
"I mean her to go over to Crossgill with us to-morrow," he said presently, returning to the charge. "If I have to beard the lion in his den, and Miss Charity on her couch, I intend to have my way. I know what I will do, Langley shall go over there after tea, she has great influence with the dominant cardinal virtue. Willing or unwilling, Miss Faith goes with us to-morrow." And Garth, as usual, had his way.