‘You must take that in hand, my lady—it is past me! Come, girls, give us some music!’
The two girls went up at bed-time to their room, Mysie capering and declaring that here was real, true, nice love, like people in stories, and Gillian still bemoaning a little that, whatever papa might say, Fa—Captain Henderson would always be too poor a creature for Kalliope.
‘If I was quite sure it was not only her beauty,’ added Gillian philosophically.
Lady Merrifield went up to Cliff House as early as she could the next day. She found her patient there very white and shaken, but not so much by the adventure of yesterday as by a beautiful bouquet of the choicest roses which lay on the table before her sofa, left by Captain Henderson when he had called to inquire after her.
‘What ought I to do, dear Lady Merrifield?’ she asked. ‘They came while I was dressing, and I did not know.’
‘You mean about a message of thanks?’
‘Yes; my dear father was so terribly displeased when I wore a rose that he gave me before the great review at Belfast that I feel as if I ought not to touch these; and yet it is so kind, and after all his wonderful kindness yesterday.’
The hand on the side and the trembling lip showed the painful fluttering of heart, and the voice died away.
‘My dear, things are very different now. Take my word for it, your father could not be displeased for a moment at any kindness between you and Captain Henderson. Ten years ago he was a very young man, and his parents were living, and your father was bound in honour, and for your sake too, to prevent attentions from the young officers.’
‘Oh yes, I know it would have been shocking to have got into that sort of thing!’