"And is that what he came to say; very kind and pleasant of him, I must confess. I expect he said a great deal more."
"He was very impertinent," she said, "and talked in a very free way to me, but it is over now, and I wish to forget it. Only, if you can, will you prevent him from coming again; or as he is Mrs. Arundel's brother, could you ask _her_ to prevent him. When I have consulted Mr. Paget, dear father's executor and our trustee, I will try if any of the money can be paid."
"Don't think of paying a farthing," Gratian said, "pray; I will see what I can do in the matter. I will talk to Gilbert. Gilbert is certain to do what I ask him, and I know how much he cared about your brother. Yes, you may depend upon my doing my best, you darling!" Gratian said, stooping down and kissing Joyce's rounded cheek.
Joyce made no response, as Gratian expected, and then they walked silently to the house.
As they drove towards Wells, Gratian, after a pause suddenly said:
"Aunt Bella, Maythorne is still in this neighbourhood. He has been at Fair Acres to-day."
"Maythorne!" Mrs. Arundel exclaimed. Then to herself, but not aloud, she said:
From the time of the Bishop's visit, Mrs. Falconer began to resume her usual employments. She covered her crape with a large apron, and pinned back the long "weepers" of her large widow's cap, and went about the house again, with none of her old sprightly manner, but still going through her duties in regular order.
It was a time which needed much patience, for, as was natural, Mrs. Falconer saw many things which she considered neglected, and Joyce felt herself held responsible for the misdemeanours of the maids, especially of Susan Priday.
The schoolmistress at Mendip had given Susan an excellent character, and Mrs. More had dictated a note to Joyce from her sick bed, telling her that she believed Susan might really prove a friend as well as a servant, for gratitude would be the spring of all her work, gratitude to Joyce for taking her, and holding her free from all blame in her father's ill-doings and bad life, which had apparently been the cause of the great sorrow which had fallen upon Fair Acres.
Mrs. Falconer had consented with the cold apathetic consent which was discouraging enough. She had taken little or no notice of Susan's presence in the kitchen and dairy till she began to come forth from her seclusion. Then, indeed, poor Susan had a hard time of it; but love, and gratitude to Joyce, were too strong for her to show any resentment for the many unjust suspicions and sharp reproofs which she had to bear.