A NEW LIFE
"I am young, happy, and free.
I can devote myself: I have a life
To give."—Browning.
IT was five o'clock in the afternoon, and the end of April. A cab with luggage was threading its way along Knightsbridge. As it approached Kensington Gardens, and the fresh green of the trees formed a refreshing contrast to the rows of buildings just passed, an eager young face looked out.
It was Jean on her way to her new home, and she was in an excited frame of mind.
"Oh," she exclaimed, "I am glad London has no marshland! How I love trees! And how few I have seen in my life."
Then she laughed at her thought.
"To come to London to see trees! What would Londoners say?"
The cab moved on through the busy thoroughfares and then suddenly turned down a quiet side street. When it stopped, and Jean jumped out, she found herself in front of a small old-fashioned terrace facing a green square; balconies were outside the upper windows; it reminded her of seaside lodgings, and she gazed at her surroundings with eager interest.
The door was opened by a neat servantmaid, who took her through a dark hall, up a narrow staircase, and ushered her into a quaint drawing-room. But though the room was rich in foreign curiosities, old lacquered screens, and rare china, Jean's eyes were fixed on the centre of it all—an unpretentious, quiet little lady seated at her tea-table.
She rose, and came forward at once.