“You surprise me very much, Fan,” she returned. “I understand that you have already shown the letter to Constance.”
“Yes, but I am sorry now. I did it without thinking, and I cannot show it again.”
“Fan, what is the meaning of this? It is only right and natural that you should confide in me about such a serious matter; and I cannot understand your motives in refusing to let me see a letter the contents of which are known to my daughter.”
“Mother,” said Constance, “I think I can guess her motives, which make it painful for her to show the letter, and will explain what I think they are. Fan, dear, will you leave us for a while, and let me tell mother why Miss Starbrow will not take you back?”
“You can say what you like, Constance, because I can't prevent you,” said Fan, still speaking with that decision in her tone which seemed so strange in her. “But I said I was sorry that I let you read Mary's letter, and if you say anything about it, it will be against my wish.”
These words, although spoken in rebuke, were a relief to Constance, for however “fantastical” she might consider Miss Starbrow's motives to be, she very much doubted that her mother would take the same view; and she knew that her mother, though entitled to know the whole matter, would never ask her to reveal a secret of Fan's.
But Mrs. Churton had not finished yet. “Fan, dear, come to me,” she said, and putting her arm about the girl's waist, drew her to her side. “I think I have cause to be offended with your treatment of me, but I shall not be offended, because you are probably only doing what you think is right. But, dear child, you must allow me to judge for you in some things, and I am convinced that you are making a great mistake. I have been a great deal to you during all these months that you have been with us, and since you received this letter I have become more to you. You must not imagine that in a little time, in another two months, we must separate; you are too young, too weak yet to go out into the world, to face its temptations and struggle for your own livelihood. I have been a mother to you; look on me as a mother still, a natural protector, whose home is your home also. It might very well be that Miss Starbrow's motives for casting you off would be of no assistance to me in the future—I can hardly think that they could be; for I do not believe that she has any valid reason for treating you as she has done. Nor is it from mere curiosity that I ask you to show me her letter; but it is best that you should do so for various reasons, and chiefly because it will prove that you love me, and trust me, and are willing to be guided by me.”
The tears rose to Fan's eyes, her strange self-collected mood seemed to be gone. “Dear Mrs. Churton,” she said, with trembling voice, “please—please don't think me ungrateful! ... You have made me so happy ... oh, what can I do to show how much I love you ... that I do trust you?”
The girl was conquered, so they thought, mother and daughter; and Constance, with a little internal sigh and a twinge of shame at her cowardice, waited to see the letter read and to save Fan the pain of answering the searching questions which her mother would be sure to ask.
“Dear Fan, let me see the letter,” said Mrs. Churton.