“They will fight like the Kilkenny cats,” rejoined Mrs. Hesketh with prompt decision. “Let us hope they will come to the same historical end.”
“My dear friend,” protested Mrs. Denton, “I know you don’t mean that! As for Cara, of course she is headstrong, but she is young, and perhaps——”
At this moment the door opened to admit a maid carrying the tea-tray. As she was immediately followed by Cara’s mother, and the Rector, Mrs. Denton’s sentence remained for ever incomplete.
There was a quiet wedding at Thornby when, for the second time, ‘Lettice Kathleen’ was married by Mr. Denton. On this occasion, it was quite a humble affair; there were no arches, no rice-throwing, no champing grey horses, or gaping crowds; the newly wedded couple, motored away from the church, and spent the honeymoon in Devonshire.
Shortly before Colonel and Mrs. Lumley took their departure for Lucknow, the latter received a long letter from her daughter. It was urgent, incoherent, and self-excusing (the immediate result of a terrific encounter with her companion in the lair). She implored her own sweet darling Mum, to take her with her to India. Unlike the application to her father, this effusion was not rewritten, altered, and recast: but inscribed with many dashes, a flowing pen and assured confidence. Cara told herself, that the Mum who had never said no to her in all her life, or turned a deaf ear to her most daring petitions, would be thankful to have her back; her mental eye already beheld dazzling visions of triumphs at the viceregal Court, the flower of the Indian Army at her feet, her mother once more her unselfish, and devoted slave.
But to Cara’s surprise her gushing despatch was promptly answered by her stepfather; who in a firm, clear hand, and a few terse sentences, conveyed to her, her mother’s good wishes, forgiveness, and farewell.
A week later, Colonel and Mrs. Lumley sailed alone.
WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON, LTD., PRINTERS, PLYMOUTH
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE: