dining-room that
she saw them, and instantly was aware that something was amiss.

Justina advanced to them first, and the two girls, with a shyness very
unusual with them, gave her their hands, and managed, but not without
difficulty, to escape a kinder salutation.

And then they both came and kissed Emily, and began to do the honours of
their father's table. There was something very touching to her in that
instinct of good breeding which kept them attentive to Miss Fairbairn,
while a sort of wistful sullenness made the rosy lips pout, and their
soft grey eyes twinkle now and then with half-formed tears.

Justina exerted herself to please, and Emily sat nearly silent. She saw
very plainly that from some cause or other the girls were looking with
dread and dislike on Justina as a possible step-mother. The little ones
were very joyous, very hospitable and friendly, but nothing could warm
the cold shyness of Gladys and Barbara. They could scarcely eat
anything; they had nothing to say.

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 hi