DOI article:
Syrett, Netta: A correspondence
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.27806#0162
158 A Correspondence
“ As long as I could be really of use to you, with Cecily, I did
not feel myself dependent,” she explained. “But now it will be
different. No, Cousin Mary, that is only your kindness. I
should not be happy in staying on.”
And Cousin Mary, though demurring, felt it selfish to stand in
the way of the girl’s prospects, especially as an acquaintance of
hers, who was about to sail for New Zealand and wanted a
governess, was overjoyed at securing such a charming person as
Miss Verrol for her two girls.
“But I’m sure I don’t know how to tell Cecily,” she lamented
again and again. “ I don’t know how she’ll take it.”
Cecily took it with a start, and an expression not easy to
read.
“But she’s such a strange girl,” complained her mother, who
was not given to analysis of character to any great extent.
Ill
Gretchen’s departure had been finally arranged only the day
before Margrave’s return to Rome. He could hardly hope to
finish the work he was engaged upon very speedily ; it would pro-
bably be at least six months before he met Cecily again, and his
complaint of having seen very little of her during his brief visit was
by no means unfounded. It was difficult to tell how deeply the
girl felt his absence. Perhaps her manner was even quieter and
more subdued than usual, but that was the only noticeable differ-
ence in her behaviour. She very rarely mentioned his name.
There was a letter lying beside her plate on the breakfast table
the morning after her lover’s departure, and Gretchen, glancing
across from her opposite seat, saw her quickly cover it with her
hand,
“ As long as I could be really of use to you, with Cecily, I did
not feel myself dependent,” she explained. “But now it will be
different. No, Cousin Mary, that is only your kindness. I
should not be happy in staying on.”
And Cousin Mary, though demurring, felt it selfish to stand in
the way of the girl’s prospects, especially as an acquaintance of
hers, who was about to sail for New Zealand and wanted a
governess, was overjoyed at securing such a charming person as
Miss Verrol for her two girls.
“But I’m sure I don’t know how to tell Cecily,” she lamented
again and again. “ I don’t know how she’ll take it.”
Cecily took it with a start, and an expression not easy to
read.
“But she’s such a strange girl,” complained her mother, who
was not given to analysis of character to any great extent.
Ill
Gretchen’s departure had been finally arranged only the day
before Margrave’s return to Rome. He could hardly hope to
finish the work he was engaged upon very speedily ; it would pro-
bably be at least six months before he met Cecily again, and his
complaint of having seen very little of her during his brief visit was
by no means unfounded. It was difficult to tell how deeply the
girl felt his absence. Perhaps her manner was even quieter and
more subdued than usual, but that was the only noticeable differ-
ence in her behaviour. She very rarely mentioned his name.
There was a letter lying beside her plate on the breakfast table
the morning after her lover’s departure, and Gretchen, glancing
across from her opposite seat, saw her quickly cover it with her
hand,