“What is Miss Starbrow's reason for casting Fan off?” she said.
The other still considered a little before replying.
“Mother,” she spoke at length, “will you read Miss Starbrow's letter for yourself? It is not very easy to see from it what she has to quarrel with Fan about. Her reason is perhaps only an excuse, it seems so fantastical. You must judge for yourself.”
“I suppose you can tell me whether her quarrel with Fan—you say that there is a quarrel—is because the girl has been taught things she disapproves.”
“No, nothing of the kind. She writes briefly, and, as I said, heartlessly. Not one word of affection for Fan or of regret at parting with her, and no allusion to the subject of her studies with you or me. Not a word of thinks to us—”
“That I never expected,” said Mrs. Churton. “I could not look for such a thing from a person of Miss Starbrow's description. A kind word or message from her would have surprised me very much.”
While she was speaking Fan had entered the room unnoticed. She was pale and looked sad, but calmer now, and the traces of tears had been washed away. Her face flushed when she heard Mrs. Churton's words, and she advanced and stood so that they could not help seeing her.
“Fan, I am deeply grieved to hear this,” said Mrs. Churton. “I cannot tell you, my poor child, how much I feel this trouble that has come on you so early in life. But before I can speak fully about it I must know something more. I am in the dark yet—Constance has not told me why Miss Starbrow has seen fit to act in such a way. Will you let me see her letter?” and with trembling fingers she began to wipe her glasses, which had grown dim.
“I am very sorry, Mrs. Churton, but I cannot show you the letter.”
They both looked at her, Constance becoming more and more convinced that there was a strength in Fan's character which she had never suspected; while in Mrs. Churton anxiety and sorrow for a moment gave place to a different feeling.