Mrs. Pinckney is quite ill with a cold: she can scarcely
speak above a whisper, and she required Adele's services during the
night. I volunteered--it was my own arrangement--sleeping with the
child," eagerly.
"Oh yes," he returned, "you are remarkably well suited to each
other--you and Virginia: you give, and she takes," sarcastically.
"Listen, Miss Featherstone. I have known that woman twelve years--it is
exactly twelve years since my unfortunate brother married her--and in
all that time I never knew her consider but one human being, and that
was herself."
"Indeed, you're very much mistaken, Colonel--that is, Mr.--Pinckney, as
far as I am concerned. Mrs. Pinckney is really very kind to me. I am
exceedingly fond of her, but I cannot bear to see things going wrong,
and when I can I make them right. Mrs. Pinckney is in delicate health."
"That's all nonsense," he interrupted. "She spends her time studying
her sensations. If she were poor she'd have something better to do. I
think you are doing wrong morally, Miss Featherstone. You are
encouraging her in idleness and selfishness by taking her duties and
bearing them on your young shoulders.--Now, Harry, come here," to that
small individual, who slowly and unwillingly descended from the
governess's lap: "leave Miss Featherstone, my young friend, to pour out
the coffee and eat her own breakfast.
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