It seemed as if, whatever occurred, Justina was capable of construing it into a good omen.  Somebody must have suggested to these girls that their father meant to make her his second wife.  What if he had done it himself?  Of course, under the circumstances, her intelligence could not fail to interpret aright those downcast eyes, those reluctant answers, and the timid, uncertain manner that showed plainly they were afraid of her.  They did not like the notion, of course, of what she hoped was before them.  That was nothing; so, as they would not talk, she began to devote herself to the younger children, and with them she got on extremely well.

Emily’s heart yearned with a painful pity that returned upon herself over the two girls.  She saw in what light they regarded the thought of a stepmother.  Her heart ached to think that she had not the remotest chance of ever standing in such a relation towards them.  Yet, in despite of that, she was full of tender distress when she considered that if such a blissful possibility could ever draw near, the love of all these children would melt away.  The elder ones would resent her presence, and teach the younger to read all the writing of her story the wrong way.  They would feel her presence their division from the father whom they loved.  They would brood with just that same sullen love and pouting tenderness—­they would pity, their father just the same, whoever wore his ring, and reigned over them in his stead.

Emily, as she hearkened to Justina’s wise and kindly talk, so well considered and suitable for the part she hoped to play—­Emily began to pity John herself.  She wanted something so much better for him.  She reflected that she would gladly be the governess there, as she could not be the wife, if that would save John from throwing himself into matrimony for his children’s sake; and yet had she not thought a year ago that Justina was quite good enough for him?  Ah, well! but she had not troubled herself then to learn the meaning of his voice, and look so much as once into the depths of his eyes.

Lunch was no sooner over than the children were eager to show the flowers, and all went out.  Barbara and Gladys followed, and spoke when appealed to; but they were not able to control their shoulders so well as they did their tongues.  Young girls, when reluctant to do any particular thing, often find their shoulders in the way.  These useful, and generally graceful, portions of the human frame appear on such occasions to feel a wish to put themselves forward, as if to bear the brunt of it, and their manner is to do this edgeways.

Emily heard Justina invited to see the rabbits and all the other pets, and knew she would do so, and also manage to make the children take her over the whole place, house included.  She, however, felt a shrinking from this inspection, an unwonted diffidence and shyness made her almost fancy it would be taking a liberty.  Not that John would think so.  Oh, no; he would never think about it.