NEW SCENES AND NEW FRIENDS
Nancy and her chaperone spent a year on the Continent, visiting several capitals, and various scenes familiar to Mrs. De Wolfe. Not a few foreign hostelries knew and respected the dominating personality, and heavy purse, of this hawk-eyed "bird of passage."
Nancy was now twenty. Like a flower she had expanded in the sun of happiness, and developed into a strikingly beautiful girl. The mahogany tint had given place to a matchless complexion: her figure no longer boyish and angular, was slender and graceful, her dress was dainty, and she carried herself admirably. After a long and complete eclipse, Nancy's vitality and vivacity had returned with undiminished vigour: the girl was never tired, idle, bored, or—silent; the mere fact of her presence, seemed to neutralize weariness and depression. Yet the death of her father was a never forgotten grief; he stood apart, as the one impressive, and beloved figure connected with her life in India. Memories of Finchie, the "Corner boys," and the Hicks', had become a little faint; as for the acquaintance of a mere six weeks, she had thrust him entirely out of her mind. At first, like some pernicious and persistent insect, he had returned again and again; but for many months she had been free from this hateful visitation.
Possibly when a young woman determines to evict from her thoughts a disagreeable lodger—such banishment is complete. Nancy had assured a quaking heart, that the ceremony of her marriage might be dismissed to the limbo of a bad dream. It had been carried out solely to comfort and relieve the anxiety of her dying father; but as a binding contract, Finchie had positively declared, that it could be easily annulled.
It was more than two years since Nancy had heard of Captain Mayne, "out of sight, is out of mind," especially as her mind was full to overflowing of new scenes, new interests, and new friends.
During their wanderings, Mrs. De Wolfe had encountered various neighbours, acquaintances, and connections. Her circle was world wide. At the Hôtel National, Lucerne, she came across the Miller family,—who lived within a motor drive of her home in Moonshire.
Truly, it was a strange and startling tale that Lady Miller poured into the ear of her neighbour, when she had carried her off to her own apartment, and could there talk without restraint! It appeared that the four Miss Millers, had combined to break loose, had cast off all obedience, and so to speak, flung the fourth commandment to the winds! Headed by Wilhelmina—the eldest—they revolted against home life, and clamoured to be taken abroad, in order to see something of what they called, "the world." "Wilhelmina," continued Lady Miller, "has an iron will and enormous influence over her father. It took her a whole fortnight to gain her point, at the end Lucas yielded, and, my dear old friend, I know you will pity us, for 'here we are!'"
Yes, Wilhelmina's triumph had been remorseless, and complete!
Glancing round the luxurious bedroom, whose windows commanded a fine view of the lake, Mrs. De Wolfe was not disposed to offer much sympathy to the lachrymose lady.
"Of course I don't approve of the present ordinance," she said: "Parents obey your children, but possibly a little change may be no harm for any of you. Your girls are grown up. Why! Billy must be six and twenty! The twins are a charming couple, and so far, have been born to blush unseen! Millfield Place is rather isolated, and surely you would not wish to have four old maids on your hands,—now would you?"