"Ever your most loving and happy daughter,
"Verona Chandos."
It would take (so she had calculated) about five weeks to receive an answer to this letter, and during these five weeks Verona renewed her friendship with people and animals: became a delightful deputy daughter to Mr. and Mrs. Melville, busied herself in making preparations for her passage, and buying suitable gifts for her unknown relations. It was near the end of June, when a letter, with an Indian stamp, in an unknown, somewhat shaky writing, lay beside Verona's plate at breakfast time. She opened it tremulously. It was written on cheap thin paper, and at the top was stamped:
"Manora Sugar Factory,
"Near Rajahpore.
"Dear Verona,
"I am writing in reply to your letter, to assure you that we shall be glad to see you, although we have not much to offer, except a welcome. I fear, after what you have been accustomed to, that you will find our mode of life an uncomfortable change, but you are young and full of hope and courage, and everything will be a novelty.
"I am sorry Madame de Godez is dead, and that she had made no provision for you. At the same time, we shall all be pleased to welcome you into what is your real home, and will look for your name in the passenger list of the steamer leaving London the second week in August. Write again, and tell us your plans.
"I am, your affectionate father.
"Paul Chandos.
"P.S.—Your mother sends her love."
This epistle was a little disappointing to Verona, the echo to her appeal seemed so faint, but after all it was a letter from her father. They were all ready to welcome her, and if not so eager to see her, as she was to see them, she remembered that they were accustomed to family intercourse—they were many living together—she alone out in the darkness, looked towards their hearth as the beacon of her happiness. Verona reflected for a short time, and then decided to show her father's letter to Mrs. Melville, who for her part found it both kind and sensible, and said so, greatly to Verona's relief, and that same day she wrote and engaged her passage by a steamer which sailed in three weeks' time.
As she went singing about the garden, culling roses, and accompanied by the dogs, Mr. Melville—a good grave man, with a spade-shaped beard, and a taste for archæology—said to his wife—