"If Mrs. Rushton has left her nothing," said Grant, "she'll be out on the world again, as she was before. Mrs. Kane may take her, unless the gentlemen do something for her."

"Mr. Enderby will never allow her to go back to poor Anne Kane," said the housekeeper. "There's many a cheap way of providing for a friendless child, and it wouldn't be fair to put her on a woman that can hardly keep her own little home together."

Hetty's anguish was unspeakable as these words sank into her heart, each one making a wound. She shuddered at the thought of going back to Mrs.

Kane, but felt even more horror of those unknown "cheap ways of providing for a friendless child," alluded to by the housekeeper. A perfect sea of tribulation rolled over her head as she bent it in despair, and wept forlornly on Scamp's comfortable neck.

In the meantime, as Hetty surmised, her fate was being decided upstairs.

No provision had been made by Mrs. Rushton for the child whom she had taken into her home, petted and indulged, and accustomed to every luxury. The relations of Mrs. Rushton's late husband, who lived at a great distance and had not been on intimate terms with her, were not much impressed by the lady's carelessness of Hetty. But Mr. Enderby, who knew all the circ.u.mstances, felt that a wrong had been done.

"Some provision ought to be made for the child," he said; "that is a matter about which there can be no doubt."

"Certainly," said Mr. Rushton, who had inherited most of his sister-in-law's property. "There are cheap schools where girls in her position can be educated according to their station. Afterwards we can see about giving her a trade, millinery and dressmaking, I suppose, or something of that kind."

Mr. Enderby looked troubled. "I do not think that would be quite fair,"

he said, "I would urge that she should receive a good education. She ought to be brought up a lady, having been so long accustomed to expect it."

"I quite disagree with you," said Mr. Rushton; "there are too many idle ladies in the world. And who is to support her when she is grown up?"

"I do not wish to make her an idle lady," said Mr. Enderby, "but I would fit her to be a governess."

"There are too many governesses; better keep her down to a lower level and teach her to be content to be a tradeswoman. As far as I am concerned, I will consent to nothing better than this for the girl."

"Then we need not speak of it any more," returned Mr. Enderby. "I will take the responsibility of the child upon myself."

Mr. Rushton shrugged his shoulders. "Do as you please," he said, "but remember it is your own choice. If you change your mind, call upon me."

So the matter ended. When the library door opened, and the gentlemen were heard preparing to depart, Hetty flew upstairs and stole into the hall, where Mr. Enderby, who was the last to go, suddenly saw her little white face gazing at him with a dumb anxiety.

"Well, my dear," he said kindly, "how are you getting on?"

"Oh sir, will you please tell me where I am to go to?" implored Hetty.

"Don't fret yourself about that," said Mr. Enderby, b.u.t.toning up his coat. "We are not going to let you be lost. You just stay patiently with Mrs. Benson till you hear again from me."

And then he nodded to her and took his departure.

That evening he had a serious conversation with his wife about Hetty Gray.

"I have made up my mind it will be better to bring her here," he said abruptly.

"My dear! is that wise?" exclaimed his wife, thinking with sudden anxiety of Phyllis's great dislike to Hetty, and Hetty's uncompromising pride.

"It is the best plan I can think of, but do not mistake me. If Hetty comes here it will be expressly understood by her and others that she is not to be brought up as my own daughter. She will merely enjoy the security of the shelter of our roof, and will receive a good education such as will fit her to provide, later, for herself."

"Will it be easy to carry out this plan?" asked Mrs. Enderby.

"That I must leave to you, my dear. You are firm enough and wise enough to succeed where others would probably fail. The only alternative that I can think of is to send her to an expensive school where she will certainly not be prepared for the battle of life. As for sending her to a lower style of place, and making a charity girl of her after all that has been done to accustom her to the society of well-bred people, the bare thought of such injustice makes me angry."

Mrs. Enderby looked admiringly at her husband.

"You are right," she said; "and I will try to carry out your plan. It will add greatly to my cares, for I fear Hetty's will be a difficult nature to deal with, especially when she finds herself in so uncertain a position in our house."

The next day Mrs. Enderby drove over to Amber Hill and desired Mrs.

Benson to send Hetty to her in the morning-room. When the child appeared she was greatly struck by the traces of suffering on her countenance, and felt renewed anxiety as to the difficulty of carrying out her husband's wishes.

"My child," she said kindly, taking the little girl's hand and drawing her to her knees, "I have a good deal to say to you, and I hope you will try to understand me perfectly."

Hetty gave her one swift upward glance in which there was keen expectation, mingled with more of fear than hope.

"I will try," she whispered.

"You know, my dear, that Mrs. Rushton was very good to you while she lived, yet you had no real claim on her, and now that she is gone you are as much alone as if you had never seen her."

Mrs. Enderby was surprised by Hetty's swift answer.

"More alone," she said, with a stern look in her young face; "for if she had not taken me I could have stayed with Mrs. Kane. I should have loved Mrs. Kane, and now I do not love her."

"There is some truth in all that," said Mrs. Enderby; "but at all events, my dear, you have enjoyed many advantages during the last five or six years. There is no question now of your going back to Mrs. Kane.

Mr. Enderby will not allow it."

"Grant says there are cheap ways of providing for friendless children,"

said Hetty, whose tongue had become dry in her mouth with fear of what might come next.

"Never mind what Grant says," said Mrs. Enderby; "attend only to what I tell you. Mr. Enderby and I have thought deeply over your future, Hetty, and we are really anxious to do what is best for you."

Hetty said nothing. All the powers of her mind were strained in wondering expectation of what she was now going to hear.

"We have been advised to send you to a school where you would be made fit to provide for yourself when you become a woman," continued the lady, "but we have decided to take you into our own house instead; on condition, however, that you try to be industrious and studious. By the time you have grown up, I hope you will be able to make use of the good education we shall give you, and will have learned the value of independence. Do you understand me completely, Hetty? We are going to educate you to be a governess. You shall live in our house and join in the studies of our children, and enjoy the comfort and protection of our home. But of course you cannot look forward to sharing the future of our daughters."

"I understand," said Hetty slowly; and the whole state of the case, in all its bearings, appeared in true colours before her intelligent mind.

"I hope you are satisfied also," said Mrs. Enderby, who was determined, even at the risk of being a little hard, that the child should thoroughly know her place, and learn to be grateful for the protection afforded her. "When you are older, my child, you will comprehend what your elders now know, that my poor sister, Mrs. Rushton, made a great mistake in raising you from the station in which she found you, and showering luxuries upon you as she did. We also see, however, that an injustice was done to you, and that we whom she has left behind her are bound to make amends to you for that. Therefore it is that we are keeping you with ourselves, instead of allowing you to run the risk of being made unhappy by strangers."

For all answer to this Hetty burst into a fit of wild weeping. Her proud little heart was broken at the prospect of returning to Wavertree to be snubbed and humbled by Phyllis, and possibly by servants of the same disposition as Grant. For the moment she could not remember all those worse horrors which her imagination had been conjuring up, and from which she was actually saved. She stood trembling and shaking in the storm of her grief, trying to stem her floods of tears with her quivering little hands, and unable to keep them from raining through her fingers on to the floor.

Mrs. Enderby sighed. Though she could not know all Hetty's thoughts, she guessed some of them, and her heart sank lower than ever at the thought of the trouble which might come of the introduction of so stormy an element into her hitherto peaceful household. However, she was not a woman to flinch from a duty, when once she had made up her mind to recognize it.

"Come, come, my child!" she said, "you have been pa.s.sing through a great trial, but you must try to be brave and make yourself happy with us."

Had Mrs. Enderby taken poor Hetty in her arms and given her a motherly kiss, much would have been done to heal the wounds made in the child's sensitive heart. But it was part of her plan, conscientiously made, that she must not accustom Hetty to caresses, such as she could not expect to receive later in life. So she only patted her on the shoulder, and, when her pa.s.sion of crying had a little subsided, bade her run away and get on her things, and be ready as soon as possible to come with her to Wavertree Hall.

CHAPTER X.

THE NEW HOME.