She was musing over the address: 'Mrs Pratt, Green Street, Islington.' 'Is that where—my sister is staying, do you think, Mary? Would it not be better to go there?'
'Would you like me to go for you, Lilian?'
For a moment she looked not a little relieved by the suggestion; but after a little reflection, appeared to put the temptation to avail herself of it, aside.
'Not if I ought to go myself. Do you think that I ought to do so, Mary?'
I replied with a question: 'What do you intend to do when you have found Marian' (sister did not come readily to my lips, and I used the name instead), 'my darling?'
'Ask her to come to live here, and do all I can to make up for the wrong done to her mother'—in a low, but clear and decided tone.
Even at that moment, with her grief so fresh upon her, though it cost her a sharp agony to use the word, she called it a 'wrong.' But although my sympathies were entirely with her, I thought it right to remind her of one thing.
'There is the possibility that she may not be the kind of companion you would desire to have always with you, Lilian.'
'I want to do right, Mary,' she replied, putting my little attempt at sophistry aside.
I nevertheless made one more little feeble protest on the side of expediency. 'There are your aunt and Mr Trafford also to be considered, you know.'