Miss Clinton turned and stared at the speaker, noticing her for the first time.
"I have business with you," she said in a sharp voice, after having looked the widow over deliberately. "Come here! Bird, bring a chair, and then go out of the room."
Bird obeyed.
"I want to know about that Yorke girl," the old lady began, when they were alone. "If you wish to befriend her, you had better tell me all you know. As for Amy Arnold, she deserves to be poor. I will not give her a dollar. She was always a sentimental simpleton, with her fine ideas. Not but fine ideas are good in their place: I always had them, but I had common sense too. I kept my sentiments, as I keep my rings and brooches, for ornament; that is the way sensible people do; but she must pave the common way with hers. Fancy a girl with absolute beauty, and money in expectation, if she behaved herself, marrying a poor artist because, forsooth, they had congenial souls! Congenial fiddlesticks! If I had had the power, I would have shut her up till she came to her senses. I am thankful to be able to say that I did box her ears soundly. Fortunately, the fellow died in a year, and Mr. Charles Yorke took pity on her. Charles Yorke is a respectable man, but I am not fond of him. I was fond of Robert till he treated Alice Mills so. Though, indeed, it was an escape for Alice; for he would have broken her heart. Robert didn't know enough to love a plain woman.
"The little Pole knew how to make him behave himself. I rather liked that girl, and I would have done something for them if Alice had not been my friend. What is the child like? Tell me all about her."
The door opened. "I won't see anybody!" Miss Clinton screamed, waving the servant away. Then, as he was going, she called him back. "Who is it? Alice Mills? The very one I want! Show her in!"
Mrs. Rowan looked with eager interest at this visitor, and saw a lady of medium size, graceful figure, and plain face. Was she plain, though? That was the first impression; but when she had taken Miss Clinton's hand, and kissed her cheek tenderly, putting her other hand on the other cheek, in a pretty, caressing way, and had asked sweetly of the old lady's health, Mrs. Rowan found her beautiful. So still and gentle, and yet so bright, was she, all harmony seemed to have entered the room with her. Even Miss Clinton's harsh face softened as she looked up at her with a gaze of fondness that had something imploring in it, and clung to her hand a moment.
"You have come in good time, my dear," she said then, in a voice far gentler than she had spoken with before. "This is the person who had charge of Robert Yorke's daughter."
The lady had seated herself close to Miss Clinton's side, with a hand still resting on the arm of her chair. At this announcement she turned rather quickly, but with instinctive courtesy, and looked searchingly at Mrs. Rowan. Then she went to take her hand. "I had a letter from Edith to-day," she said, "and she mentioned you very affectionately. I thought when I read it that I would go to see you."
"Ahem!" coughed Miss Clinton harshly. "Come here, Alice! I have sent for Mrs. What's-her-name to tell us all about the child, so you are saved the trouble of going to her."