'But,' eagerly began Lilian, 'you see it is written above, "For Marian;" and before he died, dear papa told me'——
'You are Miss Farrar!' ejaculated Mrs Pratt, turning towards Lilian with a strange expression in her eyes: a mixture of curiosity and surprise, it appeared to me.
'Yes; I am his daughter; and very anxious to obey his last request. He told me that I have a sister, and wished me to be good to her. He meant to provide for her, and his will was prepared; but his illness was very sudden at—the last, and the lawyer did not arrive in time.'
I had thought it only just to tell Lilian what Mr Markham said, and she eagerly caught at the idea that her father had intended to provide for the other.
Mrs Pratt murmured something about its being very kind of Mr Farrar; her eyes downcast, and hands fluttering about her apron-strings.
'We thought it best to bring this ourselves, Mrs Pratt, because we wish to be in communication with Marian,' I said. 'And of course you know where she is. You know her, do you not?'
'Yes, Miss,' replied Mrs Pratt. She sat very pale and still a few moments, and then went on slowly and hesitatingly: 'If you really wish to see her'——
Lilian very earnestly assured her that she did.
'Then will you please to come this way, ladies?' she whispered, still, I fancied, a little nervously and doubtfully.
We rose at once, and followed her into the passage, up a narrow staircase, and into a front-room on the first floor. One glance shewed me that this was very different from what might have been expected in Mrs Pratt's best room—different in the way of being very pretentious. It was in fact evidently intended to be considered a drawing-room, and was crowded with tawdry finery, which not even its exquisite cleanliness could make to look respectable. Gaudy furniture, gaudy curtains, gaudy vases, with quantities of artificial flowers; a round table spread with gaudily bound books, &c.—all looking in such strange contrast with Mrs Pratt herself in her homely simplicity.