ew year Jane brought in the letters
as usual, and handed them to Mrs. Dale. Lily was at the time occupied
with the teapot, but still she saw the letters, and had not her hands
so full as to be debarred from the expression of her usual anxiety.
"Mamma, I'm sure I see two there for me," she said. "Only one for
you, Lily," said Mrs. Dale. Lily instantly knew from the tone of the
voice that some letter had come, which by the very aspect of the
handwriting had disturbed her mother. "There is one for you, my
dear," said Mrs. Dale, throwing a letter across the table to Grace.
"And one for you, Lily, from Bell. The others are for me." "And whom
are you yours from, mamma?" asked Lily. "One is from Mrs. Jones; the
other, I think, is a letter on business." Then Lily said nothing
further, but she observed that her mother only opened one of her
letters at the breakfast-table. Lily was very patient;--not by
nature, I think, but by exercise and practice. She had, once in
her life, been too much in a hurry; and having then burned herself
grievously, she now feared the fire. She did not therefore follow her
mother after breakfast, but sat with Grace over the fire, hemming
diligently at certain articles of clothing which were intended for
use in the Hogglestock parsonage. The two girls were making a set of
new shirts for Mr. Crawley. "But I know he will ask where they come
from," said Grace; "and then mamma will be scolded." "But I hope
he'll wear them," said Lily. "Sooner of later he will," said Grace;
"because mamma manages generally to have her way at last." Then
they went on for an hour or so, talking about the home affairs at
Hogglestock. But during the whole time Lily's mind was intent upon
her mother's letter.

Nothing was said about it at lunch, and nothing when they walked out
after lunch, for Lily was very patient. But during the walk Mrs. Dale
became aware that her daughter was uneasy. These two watched each
other unconsciously with a closeness which hardly allowed a glance of
the eye, certainly not a tone of the voice, to pass unobserved. To
Mrs. Dale it was everything in the world that her daughter should be,
if not happy at heart, at least tranquil; and to Lily, who knew that
her mother was always thinking of her, and of her alone, her mother
was the only human divinity now worthy of adoration. But nothing was
said about the letter during the walk.

When they came home it was nearly dusk, and it was their habit to
sit up