How falteringly, and with what pathos she used this grand old word now! Before, she had done it in affectionate play, but now, a solemn feeling of tenderness thrilled the syllables, as "father" dropped from her lips, and made the heart swell in his bosom with a tremulous response.
"She will speak to Lady Hope, and they will recommend pupils to us. Oh, if we could only go back to Italy!"
As this exclamation was on her lips, the servant in blue and silver came through the door with a salver in his hand, on which lay a letter. The seal and monogram had struck his eye, and he brought the missive in with an excess of ceremony that would have been laughable at another time. He brought the letter to Caroline. She tore it open, and an eager, almost wild look of thankfulness swept over her face as she read it.
"Oh, father, father! See what the good God has done for us!"
The servant, who lingered in the room, was so astonished at hearing that sacred name used with thanksgiving or reverence in Olympia's house, that he dropped the silver tray and stood open-mouthed regarding the young lady.
"Read it! read it! Oh, this will be Heaven to us. Remark, please, you are to come with me and Eliza. Let us start by the very next train."
It was Lady Clara's letter, which, of course, contained an invitation from the old countess. Clara had added a little hospitality of her own, and suggested that Brown should come to Houghton for awhile, and give her music lessons—she was getting so out of practice. As usual, the girl had her way, and that letter was the result. But Brown's face grew thoughtful as he read.
"What is the matter?" inquired Caroline, anxiously.
"But how are we to get there?"
All the anxiety that made Brown's heart heavy under this good news, broke out in these words. Caroline's face clouded, and her voice faltered.