“The child is so changed,” she said, “so warm-hearted, loving, and confidential. She has confessed everything to me; all about those odious men, and how they taught her to smoke, and supplied her with cigarettes and chocolates, and took her trips in motor-boats. She declares she only went with them for the fun of the thing, the thrilling excitement of adventure, and possible discovery! She will never deceive me again as long as she lives—we are to have no secrets from one another.”
Here Mrs. Hesketh murmured something inarticulate into the down quilt, and her visitor continued:
“And she is so interested in Sharsley, and asks me to tell her all about the place, and about Thornby and Oldcourt. Oh, Cousin Maude,” and she sank on her knees by the bed, and took her hand in hers, “I am so happy at last! I am well repaid for my strivings. Cara and I are now all in all to one another.”
During this interview, Cara had been waiting for her mother in the lounge—she was now full of these touching little attentions. As she waited one of her English acquaintances happened to enter, paused, and bowed with ironical ceremony. Then he approached, and said in a jocular key:
“Hullo, Goldylocks! what are you doing here? Why so proud?”
Goldylocks raised her eyes, stared at him fiercely, and resumed her study of a picture paper; and after a momentary hesitation, Captain Seymour felt compelled to pass on. Cara had done with these odious free-and-easy men, who joked with her, flattered her, and then talked her over, and laughed at her behind her back. That thought acted as a lash, and kept Miss Blagdon’s exuberant impulses in check.
Presently her mother reappeared, and as they climbed the hill together, arm in arm, she said:
“Cousin Maude is so much better, the doctor thinks she may move in ten days, and we will travel with her. You know the school idea has been abandoned, and you can easily keep up your music, and French with me. I do hope you won’t find Thornby too dull; there is no one in the village now, except the Dentons.”
“And your aunt—the hunting lady?”
“No; she lives in Brighton, I am thankful to say, but the poor old Holt is closed. Cara,” and her mother halted on the little plateau, “Mrs. Hesketh has been frightening me. She asks, if your father claimed you, what would you do?”