"What! I—I, Lady Hope of Oakhust, invite that girl to be your companion, my guest! Clara, are you mad? or am I?"
The girl was struck dumb with amazement. Never in her existence had she been so addressed before—for, with her, Rachael had been always kind and delicately tender. Why had she broken forth now, when she asked the first serious favor of her life?
"Mamma! mamma Rachael!" she cried. "What is the matter? What have I done that you are so cross with me?"
"Nothing," said Rachael, sighing heavily, "only you ask an unreasonable thing, and one your father would never forgive me for granting."
"But she is so lovely! papa would like her, I know. She is so unhappy, too! I could feel her shudder when the stage was mentioned. Oh, mamma Rachael, we might save her from that!"
"I cannot! Do not ask me; I cannot!"
"But I promised that you would be her friend."
"Make no promises for me, Clara, for I will redeem none. Drive this girl from your thoughts. To-morrow morning we go back to Oakhurst."
"To-morrow morning! And I promised to see her again."
"It is impossible. Let this subject drop. In my wish to give you pleasure, I have risked the anger of Lord Hope. He would never forgive me if I permitted this entanglement."