“I don’t like to see you looking so doleful, Miss North,” she said briskly, finding Mabel sitting idle, in a somewhat disconsolate attitude.
“Why, do you think all our circumstances are so bright that I ought to be cheerful too?” asked Mabel, roused to defend herself. Mrs Hardy looked at her critically.
“It’s not circumstances that are wrong in your case; it’s yourself. You needn’t try to blind me. Think of poor Mrs North. Do you ever see her looking doleful, or hear a murmur from her? No; because she persists in being cheerful for the child’s sake and ours. You have spirit enough, too, to be bright before other people, but when you are alone you drop the mask. Can you deny it?”
“At least I don’t drop the mask until I think I’m alone.” The emphasis was marked.
“Now don’t be angry with me for having my eyes open. I only want to see you happy. Why, child, you needn’t be afraid to confide in me; I have lived a good deal longer than you, and seen about ten times as much. You’re not the first person that has done a foolish thing in a hasty moment, and been sorry for it afterwards.”
“I—I don’t know what you mean,” stammered Mabel.
“Why, dear me! what a pity it is to see two people going on at cross-purposes like this! Can’t you bring yourself to let him know you’re sorry? He’s a proud man, we all know that, but he won’t be proud to you. Why, he is suffering as much as you are, and the least word from you would bring him back.”
“It never struck me that pride had anything to do with it,” said Mabel, surprised.
“That’s where a looker-on can see more than you do. Now, don’t you be proud either. I suppose he made too much of his authority over you, and you were angry and insisted on giving him back his ring——”
“His ring!” gasped Mabel.