her views of human nature and parental feeling were as yet pure
superstitions. But Mrs. Goff at once became envious of the luxury
her daughter was about to enjoy, and overwhelmed her with
accusations of want of feeling, eagerness to desert her mother, and
vain love of pleasure. Alice, who loved Mrs. Goff so well that she
had often told her as many as five different lies in the course of
one afternoon to spare her some unpleasant truth, and would have
scouted as infamous any suggestion that her parent was more selfish
than saintly, soon burst into tears, declaring that she would not
return to the castle, and that nothing would have induced her to
stay there the night before had she thought that her doing so could
give pain at home. This alarmed Mrs. Goff, who knew by experience
that it was easier to drive Alice upon rash resolves than to shake
her in them afterwards. Fear of incurring blame in Wiltstoken for
wantonly opposing her daughter's obvious interests, and of losing
her share of Miss Carew's money and countenance, got the better of
her jealousy. She lectured Alice severely for her headstrong temper,
and commanded her, on her duty not only to her mother, but also and
chiefly to her God, to accept Miss Carew's offer with thankfulness,
and to insist upon a definite salary as soon as she had, by good
behavior, made her society indispensable at the castle. Alice,
dutiful as she was, reduced Mrs. Goff to entreaties, and even to
symptoms of an outburst of violent grief for the late Mr. Goff,
before she consented to obey her. She would wait, she said, until
Janet, who was absent teaching, came in, and promised to forgive her
for staying away the previous night (Mrs. Goff had falsely
represented that Janet had been deeply hurt, and had lain awake
weeping during the small hours of the morning). The mother, seeing
nothing for it but either to get rid of Alice before Janet's return
or to be detected in a spiteful untruth, had to pretend that Janet