“Oh, he is not;” I cried impulsively.
“Are you quite sure?”
Something in the tone offended me. I could not say what I wished.
“At least you will forgive him—if he comes back?”
“I can assure you he will not find me unbrotherly. But he must learn that he is not quite his own master.”
Nelly ran in. I was glad to go away and leave him. And yet as we were all singing together that evening, something in his voice touched me, moved me to tears. How tender he could be, and yet how stern.
I told mamma afterward of the talks Louis and I had had. So far I had held them in peculiar confidence. She was a little encouraged, and we tried to hope for the best.
Stephen spent nearly a week with us. He and Fan and Nelly agreed capitally. We went over to the Churchill’s, and the ladies were charmed with him. But he seemed so much older to me than Dick Fairlie, and several of the young villagers.
He took great pleasure in planning with mamma.
The estate owned a rather old-fashioned house in the upper part of the city, which he meant to repair and furnish, and set up house-keeping. If he could find some nice, cheerful, refined woman to take charge—did we know of anybody?