A good many little scenes which had taken place between herself and Fanny, passed before Mrs. Crook's mind's eye during her little maid's absence. Memories of sharp words, followed by sharper still, because the girl did not retort, but lifted up tearful appealing eyes that seemed to plead, not for indulgence but justice.
"I am afraid I have sometimes been a little hard on Fanny," mused Mrs. Crook; "though, if I have, it has been for her good. I dare say she would feel a sharp word sooner than some of those brazen-faced things I had before she came, for though she is full nineteen years old, she is as simple in her ways as a child."
Mrs. Crook's mode of comforting herself, when conscience reminded her that she might have been kinder to the honest, tender-hearted girl who faithfully did her best, was by no means peculiar to herself.
There are many amongst us who admit that the inward monitor was right to remind us of our hardness towards some dependent fellow creature. But we make ourselves quite comfortable, nevertheless, by insisting that the motive was right, and the hard words calculated to benefit their object.
Thought is rapid, and, though Fanny was not long absent, her mistress got through a deal of thinking before her return; moreover, her cogitations were of a very unwonted character.
[CHAPTER IV.]
NOT WITH EYE-SERVICE.
"WHY, Fanny, you must surely be bringing good news!" exclaimed Mrs. Crook, as she caught sight of the girl's face. "You look quite bright. Is Miss Lawton better?"