“Well, they certainly were not very kind, Hazel, and it seemed best for us to come home; but it is not worth caring too much about, you know.”
“And to think how friendly Mrs. Potter used to be, and how much she pretended to think of you, mother,” and Hazel becoming a little less excited, thoughtfully turned the little turquoise ring on her finger round and round, and shook her head sadly from side to side, as though her faith in human nature was forever shaken, as indeed it had reason to be.
It was a pretty picture, albeit a rather sad one, the mother and daughter, in the graceful costumes of a hundred years ago, sitting there in the low studded room, dimly lighted by the little rush-light on the mantel—a high narrow mantel, with the glowing embers on the andirons beneath it crackling loudly now and then, after the manner of a good fire that is slowly dying out. An oblong mirror, hung at a wide angle from the wall, surmounted the high mantel, and reflected the little rocker with its double load, and the pretty old-fashioned drapery at the window. It was not often that that little mirror, nor any other mirror for that matter, had the chance to frame a picture for itself full as lovely as ever artist dreamed of.
But while Hazel and her mother were talking, and Hazel herself was growing calmer and Mrs. Boniface's heart lighter with the effort to cheer her, some other things were happening in which we have an interest. Captain Boniface was striding along the road that led on to the Marberrys, trying to walk off the angry feelings that threatened to get the mastery over him. There is nothing like a good brisk walk in bracing air to get a feverish, excited mind into normal condition, and the Captain knew it; but when the force of the angry mood had spent itself, there still was left to him a sense of sad hopelessness for which he saw no remedy. To have a little family on one's hands and no money to care for them is enough to make the bravest heart heavy; but to have reached that point, and at the same time to see every chance of ever getting on one's feet again absolutely taken away, is enough to break a man's spirit. And matters had come to just that pass that evening with Captain Boniface. If the old friends had at last shown themselves friendly, he would have felt there was a hope of his making his services valuable to some of them, as indeed there would have been, for every one acknowledged Captain Boniface to be a man of rare ability. But it had now been shown him very plainly that there was no use in longer trying to stem the tide of hate and prejudice that set so strongly against him, and with the future a hopeless blank, he finally turned his face homeward. But the other thing that was happening, and in which we too have an interest, was of a cheerier sort, and was taking place at the Assembly, which had only fairly gotten under way when the Bonifaces left it.
That old-fashioned law of a partner for the evening, to be chosen by lot, of course applied only to the young folks, and the more staid, middle-aged, and elderly people were free to chat with each other, else why should they have cared to go to the ball at all?
Now it happened that Aunt Frances, who was quite in ignorance of the sad experiences of the Bonifaces, was having a most satisfactory conversation with a Mrs. Rainsford, a near neighbor, whom she had not seen since her flight from home nearly two years before, for Mrs. Rainsford was able to answer a great many questions which Aunt Frances had been longing to ask about her own home, and the care it was having.
“No, I should not think the place had been greatly abused,” said Mrs. Rainsford, while Aunt Frances sat, an eager listener. “Captain Wadsworth moved his men down to the barracks at Fort George a month ago, and since then he has been giving the house a thorough overhauling. You know he has resigned his commission, and intends to remain in this country.”
“Yes; and I know, too, that he intends to remain in my home,” sighed Aunt Frances. “I wonder if he would sell it to me, though, for that matter, it's as much mine to-day as it ever was. But there's no use to talk about that either, for I have saved from the wreck barely money enough to live upon.”
“But, Miss Avery,” said Mrs. Rainsford in a serious whisper, that was scarcely audible above the music, “I'll tell you one thing: I do not believe Captain Wadsworth will remain in your house very long.”
“Indeed! why not?” and Aunt Frances's elevated eyebrows betrayed her surprise.