'Jacinth is extremely quick,' he said, 'and notwithstanding her quiet undemonstrative manner I suspect that she has a very lively imagination.

But surely all she has got in her head is only childish; looking forward to long visits here and a continuance of Lady Myrtle's kindness? As regards Barmettle, I have no doubt she would prefer my taking the London appointment, but she is sensible; we only need to put it to her.'

'I hope so,' said Mrs Mildmay with a sigh. 'But the whole is so complicated: she is prejudiced against the Harpers; just the opposite of Frances.'

'That _is_ unfortunate,' said Colonel Mildmay. But after a moment's silence he spoke again more cheerfully. 'We must not spoil Jacinth,' he said. 'If she has been led to cherish any brilliant hopes, the sooner she gives them up the better. I shall be sorry for her disappointment, but I am sure she is not really selfish. If she sees that you and I are happier--infinitely happier--as things are, she will not take it to heart. And it may not be necessary to say much; not to enter into mercenary details, to a child like her.'

'I hope so,' said Mrs Mildmay again. But again her sigh somewhat belied her words.

The very next day brought the dreaded opportunity. Some little allusion was made to Colonel Mildmay's intention of running up to London again the following week.

'Shall you have any commissions for me, Lady Myrtle?' he said lightly.

The old lady shook her head, but without her usual smile.

'I think not, Colonel Mildmay, thank you,' she said. 'I _had_ thought of asking you to see my agent about my house in Brook Street. The present tenant's lease expires nine months hence, and I must make up my mind what I am going to do.'

'I fear I am not very _au fait_ of such matters,' he replied. 'But I could at least hear what the agent has to say more satisfactorily than by letter. So pray let me call; give me all your instructions. I should be more than delighted to be of any use, you must know,' he ended earnestly.

Lady Myrtle seemed pleased.

'Thank you,' she said. 'Well, yes then; I will tell you what I want to know.'

This conversation took place at luncheon. That afternoon Jacinth sought her mother in her own room.

'Mamma,' she said, 'are you busy? May I talk to you a little?'

Mrs Mildmay laid down her pen.

'I was writing to Marmy,' she said, 'but I have plenty of time. What is it, dear? I am glad to have a little quiet talk together. I have been wishing for it, too.'

But Jacinth scarcely seemed to listen.

'Mamma,' she began again, somewhat irrelevantly it might have seemed.

'Brook Street isn't a _very_ grand part of London, is it? At least all the houses in it are not tremendously grand, are they? I was thinking about Lady Myrtle's house. Couldn't it be arranged for _us_ to be her tenants? I'm sure she would like it if she thought we would. Mightn't I say something about it to her? She likes me to say whatever I think of, but I thought--for such a thing as a _house_, perhaps I had better ask you first.'

'But, my dearest child, we don't want any house in London,' said Mrs Mildmay with a smile which she strove to make unconstrained. 'You forget, dear, the choice was never between Barmettle and _London_, but between Barmettle and India again, and'----

'But mamma,' interrupted Jacinth, 'please answer my question first. Is Brook Street very grand? Would a house there be out of the question for us, even if we--if we had one there for nothing?'

'Yes; unless we had another thousand a year at least, we could not possibly live there on our income with any comfort or consistency,' Mrs Mildmay replied quietly.

The girl's face fell.

'A thousand a year! that's a good deal,' she said. 'I had thought'----

'But why worry yourself about things that can never be, dear Ja.s.sie?'

said her mother. 'We were going to tell you--even your Aunt Alison does not know yet--that it is all decided, and oh, I am so thankful that the long separation is over at last. Your father wrote yesterday to accept the Barmettle appointment.'

Jacinth grew scarlet, then very, very pale.

'Mamma,' she exclaimed, and the low repression in her tone was more unnatural--more alarming, I had almost said--in one so young, than any even violent ebullition of temper. 'Mamma, it _can't_ be true. You are saying it to tease me. You--you and papa would never have settled it without telling me, without consulting Lady Myrtle, after all her goodness?'

'No,' replied Mrs Mildmay, arming herself for the contest by a resolute determination not to lose her self-control, however it might be tried; 'no, though a little reflection would show you that you should have more trust in your parents, dear Jacinth; it was _not_ done without consulting our kind old friend. And however she may regret it, I _know_ she respects your father's decision.'

Jacinth looked up eagerly; a reaction of hope came over her.

'Mamma,' she said breathlessly, 'believe me, I don't mean to be either disrespectful or distrustful, but did Lady Myrtle say nothing against it? Is she perhaps going to do so when--when she has thought everything over?'

'She did say everything she could; she did use the strongest arguments she had: but she could not but see that your father's _motives_ were right, and so she saw it must be as he said,' replied Mrs Mildmay.

A harder look crept over Jacinth's face; the eager, almost nervous, anxiety died out of it.

'There is something about all this that I do not understand,' she said.

'Unless you and papa mean to treat me as a baby, I think I have a right to know. I think Lady Myrtle would say so.'

Mrs Mildmay felt much perplexed. Any approach to diplomacy, anything but perfect candour and frankness, was so foreign to her nature, that it was difficult for her not at once to speak out and explain the whole. But then, if she did so, she might be only sowing seeds of future bitterness. It was improbable, to say the least, that Jacinth had realised in any definite way Lady Myrtle's intentions with regard to her, seeing that the old lady had not announced them to her.

'All she can know is only that Lady Myrtle meant to do _something_,'

reflected Jacinth's mother. 'It would be for her happiness, and for that of us all, that she should never know more.'

Jacinth saw the trouble in her mother's face.

'Mamma,' she said, 'if you won't speak to me openly, I will ask Lady Myrtle herself.'

Mrs Mildmay flushed.

'Ja.s.sie,' she said quietly, 'you do not mean it, but your tone sounds almost like a threat--to me--to your mother?' And in spite of herself, her voice trembled a little.

But still Jacinth repeated coldly, 'I think I have a right to know.'

At that moment the door opened, and to Mrs Mildmay's immense relief her husband entered.

'What is the matter?' he asked quickly. 'Am I interrupting you?'

'On the contrary,' said his wife, 'I am very glad you have come. Jacinth is, as I half feared she would be, exceedingly upset by the news about Barmettle, and she seems to think we have not treated her with the confidence she deserves.'

'You cannot feel that, when I tell you that my decision was only made yesterday,' said her father to Jacinth.

'Yes. I think you might have--have consulted me a little before making it,' the girl replied. 'It is something to me personally; to have to live at a place like that now I am nearly grown up.'

She seemed to be purposely emphasising the selfish part of her dissatisfaction out of a kind of reckless defiance.

'Do you quite understand that it was a choice between this appointment and an indefinite return to India?' said Colonel Mildmay.

'I understand that you think so. But I don't see it. There was the London thing. And even if not, I would rather have had India.'

'No, no, Ja.s.sie, don't do yourself injustice,' exclaimed her mother.

'Not when you think of the risk to your father's health.'