“You must come again soon, Merle,” she said, as we parted; “Ezra and I are not young people now, and a bright face does us both good, and your face has grown a very bright one, Merle.”
Was Aunt Agatha right, I wondered? Had I really grown happier outwardly? Had the inward peace of satisfied conscience and a heart at rest cast its reflection of brightness? I was certainly very happy just then; my life was growing wider, friends were coming round me, interests were thickening, there was meaning and purpose in each opening day. I no longer thought so much of myself and my own feelings; the activities of life, the needs and joys of others seemed to press and crush out all morbid ideas. I had so many to love and so many who seemed to need me and care for me.
I went more than once to Putney during the next two or three weeks. My mistress was far too sympathising and unselfish to keep me from my own people when they needed me; on the contrary, she was always full of contrivances that I should be spared.
November passed very pleasantly. Mrs. Morton was recovering strength slowly but surely; she was no longer a prisoner to her dressing-room, but could spend the greater part of the day in the drawing-room or in her husband’s library.
But she still continued her invalid habits and saw few people. I still sat with her in the afternoon, and either Joyce or Reggie played about the room. When Mr. Morton was absent I came down to her in the evening, and read or talked to her. I prized these hours, for in them I learned to know my sweet mistress more intimately and to love her more dearly.
At the beginning of December Gay came to us. I was looking forward to her visit with some eagerness, though I knew my evenings would then be spent in the nursery, as Mrs. Morton would only need her sister’s society; but, to my great surprise, I was summoned to the drawing-room on the evening of her arrival. She had come just in time to dress for dinner, and we had not yet seen her. I could scarcely credit Travers’ message when she delivered it.
“Will you please go down to the little drawing-room, Miss Fenton? Miss Gay wants to see you, and my mistress does not care to be left alone.”
She started up and came to meet me with outstretched hands. She looked prettier than ever, and her eyes were shining with happiness.
“I am so glad to see you, Merle. I wanted to come up to the nursery, but this spoiled woman—how you have all spoilt her!—refused to be left. She said Hannah would be there, and that we could not talk comfortably.”
“Yes, but there was another reason,” returned my mistress, smiling; and Gay blushed and cast down her eyes.