"I can only say, may God bless and guard you, my darling! And mind, if you want me, I will come to you at any time, night or day, for only a word."
[CHAPTER III.]
JOYCE had always plenty of time to herself, for when aunt and cousins were out driving or visiting she had to choose between solitary walks in the grounds or the society of Sarah Keene and a seat beside her ironing table, her uncle being often from home.
"The carriage is not comfortable with more than three in it," Mrs. Evans would say, when her daughters accompanied her. If only one of these went, and Mr. Evans suggested that Joyce should make a third, he was told, "Your niece has not been used to a carriage. Why spoil her by accustoming her to luxuries she is not likely to possess in future?"
"How do you know? Joyce may marry well. She is sweet-looking and a good girl, who would be a treasure worth the winning to a man who had sense enough to prefer worth to money."
Mr. Evans made this remark without the slightest intention of paining his wife, but it called forth derisive words from his younger daughter, in reference to Joyce, and an angry response from Mrs. Evans.
"Of course your penniless niece is more charming than my daughters. But Joyce Mirlees shall be taught to know her place, and find something better to do than to idle her time in gossiping with a servant."
"Your niece—my house—my daughters!"
Mr. Evans did not say these words, but as he repeated them to himself, a picture came to mind, and words from the most touching of all parables spoke to his heart.
"The forgiving father spoke of the penitent prodigal on his home-coming as, 'my son who was dead and is alive again,' and to the elder who had never strayed as, 'thy brother.' But this last had no thought of tenderness for him who lost all and had returned hungry, penniless, destitute. It was not 'my brother' with him, but 'thy son.' Poor Joyce! Homeless, orphaned, hungering just for love, is nothing to my wife but 'your niece,' when she speaks of her to me. Three days hence will be her twenty-first birthday, too; she came here in March, and this is nearly the end of June. I thought that a girl so sweet in herself must win the good-will of my wife and girls, but all she has received is a bare shelter, grudgingly permitted rather than given during three weary months."