“Come, you must go to bed,” said Mrs. Davenant, “or you will lose all your fresh roses.”
And she put her candle in her hand, and kissed her tenderly.
It was some time before Una fell asleep. The events of the night flitted like phantom visions across her eyes, and Jack’s face rose to haunt her, with its tender, troubled look in the dark eyes.
The squire had willed all to Stephen then, and Jack was poor and forgotten.
The sun was high in the heavens when she awoke, and breakfast was on the table by the time she had got down.
Mrs. Davenant looked up with a smile.
“I am so glad to have you safe, dear,” she said. “Come, you have got all your roses back again; and, see here, you cannot guess whom this is from;” and she held up a note. “It is from Lady Bell. It is an awful scolding for your running away last night. She says that you flew away like a bird, and that she had no sooner missed you than she heard that you had gone.”
Una colored.
“Was it rude of me?” she said. “I am sorry.”
“Never mind, my dear; she has evidently forgiven you, or she says she will, if you will go with her for a water picnic to-day.”