“It is quite right and proper that you should go with Sheila when they ask her. You got on very well with them, did you not?”
“Oh, yes, very well indeed. Mr. Dumaresq never noticed Sheila at all when I was there. He is really very intelligent. I enjoyed talking to him. He has plenty of sense, though he has such good spirits. I like him very much.”
Mrs. Cossart was well pleased. The thought which had lately come into her head seemed now to take firmer root. Certainly a marriage into some really good family would be an excellent thing for Effie; and her handsome dowry ought to be an inducement which no young man would altogether overlook.
So the mother’s eyes were very jealously on the watch the next days and weeks; and often her heart swelled within her with anger and jealous displeasure. For it was impossible to ignore the fact that Sheila was the favourite. However well Effie was dressed, however she was put forward and “trotted out” by her mother, it was Sheila’s merry laugh, Sheila’s saucy or appealing speeches, Sheila’s big soft eyes that seemed to win her way everywhere.
“I wish I had never brought that girl!” cried Mrs. Cossart one evening in exasperation to her husband.
“What girl, my dear?” asked Mr. Cossart mildly. “I thought it was doing Effie so much good. She is another creature.”
“Yes, Effie, if it were only her; but there is Sheila! I am out of all patience with her! I declare if there is a good opportunity I will ship her back to England. It is too bad the way she is going on!”
(To be continued.)
