y not having done so as a proof of my feeling at one with you. For till
this minute I thought you did know. At least I forgot you did not. I
will tell you exactly how it came about.' And she did so, adding rather
sadly, as she concluded, 'And after all, dear, you see I was able to do
very little. Lady Myrtle will _not_ think of them as her relations, and
grateful though they are for this present help, of course it is not
anything lasting; not what we would like to make sure of for their
future.'

'No,' Jacinth agreed, 'I understand how you mean. Still, it is a very
good thing their father is so much better. I think they have a great
deal to thank you for, mamma--you, and Francie too, in her way. I think
they should know _I_ have not helped at all; it makes me feel
almost--dishonest. If Francie writes to Bessie, couldn't she say
something?'

'Whatever she says about the matter at all must only be very slight and
vague,' said Mrs Mildmay. 'And, Jassie dear, you _do_ feel kindly to
them now?'

'I want to feel whatever's right,' Jacinth replied, and her tone was
wonderfully humble.

'Then there is no need to enter into any explanations,' said Mrs
Mildmay. 'It would only hurt poor Bessie if you made any sort of
disclaimer of the friendliness they credit us all with. The only thing
you could ever do might perhaps be'----She hesitated.

'What, mamma?' asked Jacinth.

'Some day,' said her mother, 'you _may_ have an opportunity of saying to
Lady Myrtle that you think you were a little prejudiced against them.'

'Yes,' Jacinth agreed, 'perhaps it would be right. For, you see, mamma,
_she_ thought I avoided speaking of them because I did not want to annoy
her, and I think I made myself believe that too. But now I see it wasn't
only that. It was partly a--I feel ashamed to think of it--a sort of
horrid jealousy, I am afraid, mamma.'

And though she reddened as she made what to her was really a painful
confession, Jacinth's heart felt lighter from that moment. There was now
no shadow of misunderstanding between her mother and herself.

CHAPTER XVIII.

'I WILL THINK IT OVER.'

The very faint hope which the Mildmays--Jacinth especially--had
cherished that, after all, the coming Christmas might 'somehow' be spent
by them and Lady Myrtle together, soon faded.

There was no question of the old lady's coming north, though in one of
her letters she spoke of the gladness with which she would have made the
effort had