"I did not mean to be naughty. But you should remember I am still
only a girl--a poor, helpless, half-formed girl, who never had any body
to teach her any thing, who is trying so hard to be good, only they will
not let me!"
"Who do you mean by they?"
No, he evidently had not the slightest idea how bitter was the daily
household struggle, the petty guerilla warfare which she had to bear.
And perhaps it was as well he should not. She would fight her own
battles; she was strong enough now. It was a step-by-step advance, and
all through an enemy's country. Still, she had advanced, and might go
on to the end, if she only had strength and patience.
"Hush! I hear Miss Gascoigne at the door. Please go and speak to her.
Don't let her see I have been crying."
Of this, happily, there was little fear, Miss Gascoigne being too much
absorbed in her own appearance, which really was very fine. Her black
satin rustled, her black lace fell airily, and her whole figure was that of
a handsome, well-preserved, middle-aged gentlewoman. So pleased
was she with herself that she was pleasant to every one else; and when,
half an hour after, Dr. Grey entered the reception-rooms of St. Mary's
Lodge with his wife on one arm and his sister on the other, any
spectator would have said, how very nice they all looked; what a
fortunate man he was, and what a happy family must be the family at
Saint Bede's.
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