"And—I—Evy, dear—I—may go," said Cecilia, clinging to Evelyn.
"And me, too," lisped Sophia, the youngest hope,—"there's such a pretty peacock."
"Oh, yes, they may go, Mrs. Merton, we'll take such care of them."
"Very well, my dear; Miss Cameron quite spoils you."
Evelyn tripped away to put on her bonnet, and the children ran after her, clapping their hands,—they could not bear to lose sight of her for a moment.
"Caroline," said Mrs. Merton, affectionately, "are you not well? You have seemed pale lately, and not in your usual spirits."
"Oh, yes, I'm well enough," answered Caroline, rather peevishly; "but this place is so dull now; very provoking that Lady Elizabeth does not go to London this year."
"My dear, it will be gayer, I hope, in July, when the races at Knaresdean begin; and Lord Vargrave has promised to come."
"Has Lord Vargrave written to you lately?"
"No, my dear."