‘Are his sisters very young, then? Does
Miss Darrell manage the house?’
‘Yes. How could you guess that?’
looking at me in surprise. ’Gladys, Miss
Hamilton, is about three-and-twenty, but she is very
delicate; the younger one, Elizabeth, is two years
younger; they are Hamilton’s half-sisters,—his
father married twice: that accounts for a good
deal.’
‘How do you mean,—accounts for a
good deal, Max?’
‘Why people say that Hamilton doesn’t
always get on with his sisters,’ he returned
reluctantly: ’there are often misunderstandings
in families,—want of harmony, and that
sort of thing. Mind, I do not say it is true.’
‘But you are so often at Gladwyn, you ought
to know, Max.’
’Yes, of course; and now and then I have seen
Hamilton a little stern with his sisters; he is rather
irritable by nature. I don’t quite understand
things myself, but I have got it into my head that
they would be happier without Miss Darrell; she is
a splendid manager, but it puts Miss Hamilton out
of her right place.’
‘But she is an invalid, you say?’
’No, not an invalid, only very delicate, and
a little morbid; not quite what a girl ought to be.
You could do some good there, Ursula,’ rather
eagerly. ’Miss Hamilton has no friends of
her own age; she is reserved,—peculiar.
You might be a comfort to her; you are sympathetic,
sensible, and have known trouble yourself. I should
like to see you use your influence there.’
‘I will try, if you wish it, Max. And her
name is Gladys?’
‘Yes, Gladys, of Gladwyn,’ he returned,
with a smile, but I thought he said it with rather
a singular intonation, but it had a musical sound,
and I repeated it again to myself,—’Gladys,
of Gladwyn.’
NEW BROOMS SWEEP CLEAN
We were interrupted just then by Mrs. Drabble, who
came in for the tea-things, and, as usual, held a
long colloquy with her master on sundry domestic affairs.
When she had at last withdrawn, Uncle Max did not
resume the subject. I was somewhat disappointed
at this, and in spite of my strong antipathy to Mr.
Hamilton I wanted to hear more about his sisters.
He disregarded my hints, however, and began talking
to me about my work.
‘Do you know anything about the family Mr. Hamilton
mentioned?’ I asked, rather eagerly.
’Oh yes; Mary Marshall’s is a very sad
case; she has seven children, not one of them old
enough to work for himself; and she is dying, poor
creature, of consumption. Her husband is a navvy,
and he is at work at Lewes; I believe he is pretty
steady, and sends the greater part of his wages to
his wife, but there are too many mouths to feed to
allow of comforts; his old blind mother lives with
them. I believe the neighbours are kind and helpful,
and Peggy, the eldest child, is a sharp little creature,
but you can imagine the miserable condition of such
a home.’
