For one day Clare was pensive and thoughtful. There were dark rings round her eyes; she was silent and self-contained, and held herself aloof from such of her worshippers as came within her reach.
"I am not very well, and I want to be quiet! Please leave me to myself, it will really be kind," she said, when asked to join in any amusement. But she was secretly happy in the consciousness that she was an object of the deepest interest to the nicest people of several guests then staying at Monks Lea, and that she never looked more attractive than when her face wore traces of sorrow.
The next day Clare was her fascinating self again, the gayest at a garden party, and distributing smiles with her usual impartiality. Margery had no need to fear that Clare's spirits had suffered any lasting depression from her lecture.
[CHAPTER V.]
MRS. AUSTIN was far too just to fail in the promise she had made, and too good a woman of business to defer the legal steps by which her adopted daughter's future would be provided for.
Margery, by her mother's marriage settlement, would be sole heiress to the Monks Lea estates, which brought in a large income. Mrs. Austin's personal property, which was very considerable, was entirely at her own disposal. This, with the exception of legacies to distant relatives, friends, and servants, she decided should, after her own death, be divided equally between Margery and Clare. If either should marry during her lifetime, Mrs. Austin was in a position to give her a handsome portion at once.
In the meanwhile the girls had each an ample allowance for personal expenses and charity purposes. They had been trained to think of the needs of others, whilst thankfully acknowledging the bountiful goodness of God towards themselves. Both girls profited by Mrs. Austin's teaching and example, and used well the money entrusted to them.
Clare might have her faults, her vanities, too great love of admiration, and a determination to indulge it at all costs. She might be an unconscious actress, according to the judgment of the Frenchwoman, or what Barbara called "close" with regard to her own little secrets; but she was tender where poverty and suffering came, and her sympathy was real and practical.
She gave willingly and liberally, if not always with sound judgment, and her tears at such times were marks of true feeling, whilst her kind words came from the heart, and doubled the value of her help.
In such labours of love Margery and Clare walked hand-in-hand and stood on equal ground.