“She is well, but she wished me to say she is very anxious over Peter Gaspin. She wants to see you about some papers.”
Mr. Eyrle walked on, thinking of Lady Pelham; of fair, dead Clarice; of the beautiful and noble Lady Hermione, until he reached Aldenmere. He met the two little children on the lawn. They sprang to meet him, asking the usual question, “When is papa coming?” He took little Harry in his arms. In after years every detail of the scene was as vivid to him as though it had happened yesterday.
“I want to see my own papa,” said baby Maude. “You are very nice, but you are not so nice as he is.”
Harry cried out: “Mr. Eyrle, I have written a letter to papa! Mamma says it will travel over blue seas and tall mountains to get to him. I wish I could go inside my own letter.”
Kenelm laughed. “Do you want to see papa so much, then?”
“Yes,” replied the boy, gravely. “There is no one in the wide world I love so much as I love him. When he comes home I shall ride with him; mamma says so. Mr. Eyrle,” continued the boy, “could you ever hurt any one you loved?”
“No,” replied Kenelm; “never!”
“So I said. Nurse punished Maude this morning, and then she said we were sometimes obliged to hurt those we loved. I do not think so. If you like any one, would you hurt them, even if it were right, you know?”
“I can hardly tell,” he replied, with a smile. “I think not, Harry, unless I were compelled.”
“It is a question that involves a great many others, Harry,” said Lady Hermione, who had just joined the little group unperceived. She held out her hand to Mr. Eyrle.