“You won’t spend your whole life in India, and I am not going to cast off my relations. Nothing of that sort can ever be. I am only sorry you did not keep from saying a word. We will forget about it as fast as possible. You are my brother, and that is all. The best thing you can do is to fall in love with dear good little Nessie. But please don’t think about me any more, and don’t say one word to father. My path in life is quite plainly cut out for me. I will never leave dear father, by my own choice.”
[CHAPTER XXX.]
THE VALLEY ONCE MORE.
“OH no! I couldn’t think of it, George. I am quite too old for swinging bridges now. I couldn’t, really,” said Dulcibel. Two years had gone by, and once more they were in their old quarters—Dulcibel being seated lazily in an arm-chair near the window of the hotel drawing-room, while George and Joan stood in front of her. George Rutherford, though a good deal aged by his long ill-health, now looked fairly strong again; and Joan’s warm dark face was rippling over with happiness. Nobody else happened to be present. They had come late in the season this year, and the hotel was nearly empty. The trees in the hotel grounds showed autumn tints and thinned foliage.
“I couldn’t possibly,” repeated Dulcibel. “You know I always had a horror of that bridge, George, dear. Last time we were here, you made me go over; but I can’t now—I really can’t. My nerves will not stand that sort of thing any longer. You and Joan most go together.”
“But, my dear, what are you going to do with yourself?” asked George.
“I shall just take a little turn presently, or else sit here and work. Besides, I want to write to Nessie.”
For Nessie was no longer with her mother. Men do not often follow such advice as Joan had rashly given to Leo; but in this case it had been followed. Finding Joan hopelessly out of his reach, Leo at length actually contented himself with the gentle and impassive little Nessie. Three months before this Welsh trip the wedding had taken place, and Leo with his bride was now again in India.
Dulcibel felt the parting greatly, of course; still it had long been her ardent wish that Leo should wed Nessie, and if grieved she was also very much gratified. Her chief consolation was found in writing endless chit-chat letters to Nessie. So soon as one was finished, she started its successor.
And Joan now was the only home-daughter. She loved and exulted in this position. George depended upon her companionship more entirely than ever; and Dulcibel and Joan no longer rubbed and fretted each the other. Dulcibel’s ways were perhaps not less teasing than in past years, but Joan was more patient; and there existed also between the two a greater heartiness of affection.