She was not wholly sorry in thinking of the decisive step Joyce had taken. It would give her a good excuse for severing all connection with so undesirable a relative. But there was one drawback to her self-gratulation. If any of her fashionable neighbours were to hear that Mr. Evans' niece had taken such a situation, it would be too dreadful. They would not, perhaps, draw so nice a distinction as she had done, and despite the fact that the connection was only by marriage, Joyce might be regarded as her relative also. There was no getting over the fact that she was first cousin to Adelaide and Augusta.
"If that girl's surname had been the same as ours, I would have taken steps to assume a different one, at whatever cost."
"Would you have had us called by your maiden name of Smittles?" asked Augusta, who had followed her mother from the morning room. "I like Evans much better."
Mrs. Evans blushed, for that name was doubly objectionable, and she was most anxious that the fact of her having been Miss Smittles, the daughter of a notoriously unscrupulous speculator, should be forgotten. She said no more about giving up her present surname.
"Do you think," asked Augusta, "that the Mrs. Caruth my cousin spoke of could be the lady, whom we met with her son at Mentone last winter! They were delightful people—so refined, and knew everybody that was worth knowing there, and numbers of people we should like to meet here. You remember he had come back invalided from the Soudan, and though he was quite young, about thirty, he had gained great distinction. He was Major Caruth, I think, and his name must have been Alexander, for his mother called him 'Alec.' Everyone liked them both, but we used to think him just a little reserved."
"I thought him extremely polite—quite a model of courtesy, in fact."
"Well, yes, he was, and especially to the elder ladies; but he never showed any marked attention to any of the younger ones. He was the most devoted son possible, and it was quite beautiful to see the manner in which he looked up in his mother's face when she came to his side with that inquiring glance on hers."
"He had nearly died, and he was all she had," replied Mrs. Evans. "Heir to a fine property, I believe. I scarcely think that Mrs. Caruth could be the one Joyce mentioned. Was it likely there would be any intimacy between the daughter of a poor country clergyman and people of position like those Caruths?"
"I do not know. You see, clergymen go everywhere."
"But not always their wives and daughters," said Mrs. Evans.