“I was a mere child then,” said Carry.
“Certainly,” said Mr. Prince, with the same smile. “Still the conditions, I think, have never been oppressive to you nor your mother; and the only time they are likely to give you the least uneasiness will be when you come to make up your mind in the choice of your guardian. That will be on your eighteenth birthday—the twentieth, I think, of the present month.”
Carry was silent.
“Pray do not think that I am here to receive your decision, even if it be already made. I only came to inform you that your stepmother, Mrs. Starbottle, will be in town tomorrow, and will pass a few days at the hotel. If it is your wish to see her before you make up your mind, she will be glad to meet you. She does not, however, wish to do anything to influence your judgment.
“Does Mother know she is coming?” said Carry hastily.
“I do not know,” said Prince gravely. “I only know that if you conclude to see Mrs. Starbottle, it will be with your mother's permission. Mrs. Starbottle will keep sacredly this part of the agreement, made ten years ago. But her health is very poor; and the change and country quiet of a few days may benefit her.” Mr. Prince bent his keen, bright eyes upon the young girl, and almost held his breath until she spoke again.
“Mother's coming up today or tomorrow,” she said, looking up.
“Ah!” said Mr. Prince with a sweet and languid smile.
“Is Colonel Starbottle here too?” asked Carry, after a pause.
“Colonel Starbottle is dead. Your stepmother is again a widow.”