“Percy has been speaking to her again, mother; he went to meet her, when she was coming back from the Nortons’, and Crystal is very, very angry with him.”
Mrs. Trafford’s face darkened—she looked exceedingly displeased. Was this how Percy protected his sister? leaving her alone with Erle Huntingdon while he carried out his own selfish purposes. This was worse than she had imagined; but Fern misunderstood the reason of her mother’s vexation.
“It is very wrong of Percy to worry Crystal in this way, but, poor boy, I do believe he is honestly in love with her. I do wish she would care for him, it would make him so different.”
“Crystal will never care for any one; at least”—checking herself as though she had stated a fact erroneously—“she will never care for Percy. I have told him so, and begged him not to persecute her with his attentions, as, if he persisted, she had made up her mind to seek another home. Percy was dreadfully angry when I told him this, and refused to believe me; and then he turned round on me, and accused me of want of prudence in taking a stranger under our roof, and asked me how I knew that she was a fit companion for his sister?”
“As though Crystal were not the dearest and best in the world,” returned Fern, indignantly. “Never mind, mother, he only wanted to make you uncomfortable. He is too fond of Crystal to doubt her for a moment. I hope you told him that you were acquainted with her whole history?”
“Yes; and I informed him at the same time that you were ignorant of it, though Crystal meant to tell you herself one day. I told him that, to put his mind at rest, I could satisfy him that Crystal came of good parentage; that she had influential friends and protectors if she chose to appeal to them; that though she was apparently a lonely waif, she had in reality good friends and a most comfortable home.”
“Then, I suppose, she has alienated them by that confounded temper of hers,” he said, with a sneer; “but I could see he was surprised and not altogether pleased; but I wished him to know that she was not without protectors if he drove her from our roof.”
“Percy is very selfish,” sighed Fern. “Crystal was getting a little happier; she was beginning to look less miserable, and to take more interest in things, but this evening she has the old restless look.”
“That is because she will not take my advice,” returned her mother quickly. “Crystal is a dear girl, and I am very fond of her, but I think most of her troubles come from her own undisciplined nature; she is the object of the tenderest love, the most divine forgiveness; there are kind hearts waiting for her if she would only generously respond to them. She has told me her story under the seal of secrecy, as you know well, or she would long ago have been in her right place. My heart bleeds for the friends who love her so, and are seeking her so vainly. No”—rising as if to close the subject—“I am very sorry for Crystal, but I do not pity her as you do. I have known what it is to sin, but I have not been too proud to acknowledge my error. Crystal acknowledges hers with bitter tears and most true penitence, but she will not be forgiven. ‘Let me expiate my sin a little longer,’ that is all she says.”
“Yes, I know,” whispered Fern, “she is always telling me that she does not deserve to be happy; is that true, mother?”