Perhaps in all the world no sight could have been so welcome at that moment to poor Lady Jane as Rosamund's bright face. The courage in it, the knowledge that Irene respected and, yes, loved this girl, cheered her inexpressibly. She was not jealous. The fact was, had she been jealous, had she felt any very deep mother-love for her orphan child, things might have been quite different. But her whole heart was absorbed in memories, and Irene, in consequence, had never given her a true daughter's affection. But she was terribly perturbed about the naughty child; and Rosamund looked to her, with her straight carriage, her fine open face, like a very tower of strength.