As it was she sat down to her bread and butter with sufficient content. She had a great deal to do, and notwithstanding her precarious condition, separated from her husband, without an income, and living upon her little capital, she was not unhappy. She was too busy to be unhappy. She had been quite unfit to be Arthur’s companion when they were together; and there was so much to do to qualify herself for that post. But when the Curtises saw that she could draw so well, and that her room was so artistic, and that she had read so many books, what could they think but that she was truly a lady? And Arthur would come home for her, and all would be well. These hopes were in her mind as she read, and as she drew. She was occupied, and there was hope in her, and no one to cross her. Accordingly Nancy was not unhappy. “I shouldn’t wonder at all if Miss Curtis was to call--she said something about it. Will you see her, or will you not see her? I said I was not sure you would like it.” “Matilda, that was rude!” “Nothing of the sort--what could I say? I couldn’t tell her, Nancy don’t want to be seen.” “Don’t call me Nancy, please!” “Well, Anna then--but I never can recollect. I said I didn’t know if you would like it--but anyhow you could go upstairs if you didn’t like it.” “She must think me a pretty bear. She did not ask you--what your sister’s name was, nor where she came from, nor--anything about her?” “Not a word. Why should she? You didn’t show at all; when you are seen you are a deal more interesting than me, I don’t deny it.” “Please!” said Nancy clasping her hands, “don’t say ‘a deal,’ and ‘more interesting than me.’” “What should I say,” said the good-humoured Matilda; “it is a good thing I am not nervous. When she comes, you can run upstairs. You can listen over the banisters, and hear all she is saying; and if you like her talk, you can come down next time. After all, Nancy, if you had not imagined that we would see them, why should we have come here?” “But she will know me,” said Nancy, “she saw me once--” “On your wedding day! You don’t think you are a bit like the same person in that funny stiff little cap, and white collar, as you were in your wedding dress with your veil? I don’t think Arthur himself would know you,” said her sister frankly. Nancy winced at this, in spite of herself. She did not want to be so changed as this. That she might be changed a little, that there might be a difficulty in recognising her, and a sense of mystery exciting their curiosity before they found her out--that would be nothing but pleasant; but to be so unlike herself as not to be recognised, even by Arthur, was not in her thoughts.