HALF-SISTERS.
MARGIE had letters from home regularly every week, and was eager for
the news as any schoolgirl, and of late there had been several matters
of more importance than usual.
At Monkston Manor there had been a very gay time indeed, for the house
had been full of staying company, and all sorts of parties were given
by way of entertainment. To these parties, of course, the Graylings
were all and always invited, and Fay especially wrote in raptures of
the "lovely time" they were having.
Lettie wrote too, and she mentioned something that Fay had carefully
omitted, namely, that Howard Logan, a nephew of Sir Peter, a very
good-looking but reckless and headstrong young fellow of about
three-and-twenty, was apparently much smitten with Fay's youthful
charms, and was paying her a good deal of attention, which flattered
the young lady not a little.
"There's no harm in having a little fun if one is engaged," Fay was
reported to have said. Harry was far away. It could not hurt him, and
she would only just amuse herself a wee bit. Untrue to Harry of course
she could never, near be; but she would seem silly, indeed, to shut
herself up and have no pleasures just because she was engaged to be
married. Harry surely could not be so exacting as to wish it.
So she amused herself very well with Howard Logan; so well, indeed,
that her engagement to him was commonly reported. It was not true, of
course, but there was little doubt in Margie's mind that her young
sister had behaved very wrongly towards both men who loved her; and
for Harry's sake especially—good, true-hearted, dear Harry—she felt
indignant, and wrote Fay a warm letter of protest, receiving in reply a
note which briefly told her to mind her own business and not meddle.
As for Mattie, she was in her element at Monkston Manor. Her talent for
organising and managing, for arranging and entertaining, made her an
ideal housekeeper, and the handsome salary Sir Peter gave her, enabled
her to dress as became the lady hostess. Indeed, Lettie wrote that
when Mattie was dressed for the evening, and had a nice colour in her
cheeks, she was almost handsome.
Margie was glad to think that her old suitor, Sir Peter, had become, at
last, aware of the hopelessness of his wishes to obtain her (Margie)
for his bride; and she hoped that, seeing how remarkably well Mattie
did the honours of his home, how reliable and high-principled she was,
and how she seemed to have fallen, quite naturally and easily, into her
position of lady of the house, Sir Peter would transfer his affections
to the elder sister, who was more suited to him in years, and who
really would make in many ways as good a wife to an old man as he could
desire.
Altogether, home affairs seemed to be in a satisfactory condition,
except as regarded Fay, and Fay would allow nobody to say a word to
her, and showed herself in a new character—one which hitherto had been
quite unsuspected by any one. Margie had always told herself that she
loved Harry Mayne as a dear brother, and she felt that she was well
within her duties and privileges as sister, if she strongly resented
his being badly treated by any one. She felt as if somehow she were
responsible for Fay's good faith, and she was bitterly ashamed that
the girl whom Harry loved, and who had confessed her love for him in
return, should be suspected—with more or less reason—of disloyalty to
one so whole-hearted and true as Harry.
Poor Margie's heart, very full of grief and indignation for Harry's
sake, must have shown itself in her face one day when she took a
message from Mrs. Beach to the invalid, Clara Raye, between whom and
herself a warm friendship had sprung up.
"Margery clear," said Clara, "you are in trouble of some sort; I see it
in your heavy eyelids and those lines about your mouth, which make even
your smile a sad one. Can I help you at all? Is there nothing I can do?
I am such a poor thing, and so debarred from most means of usefulness,
that it would be conferring a favour upon me, if you could let me serve
you. Is it a case in which money would be of any service, Margery dear?"
Margie shook her head. "No, thank you, Miss Clara," she replied. "It
has nothing to do with money. But I am puzzled to know what to do for
the best, or whether I ought to do and say nothing."