She told the whole history of her visits; first, how cordial Lady Leonora Langdale had been, and then, how happy she had been at Glenbracken. The old Lord and Lady, and Marjorie, all equally charming in their various ways; and Norman Ogilvie so good a son, and so highly thought of in his own country.
“Did I tell you, Ethel, that he desired to be remembered to you?”
“Yes, you said so.”
“What has Coralie done with it?” continued Flora, seeking in her dressing-case. “She must have put it away with my brooches. Oh, no, here it is. I had been looking for Cairngorm specimens in a shop, saying I wanted a brooch that you would wear, when Norman Ogilvie came riding after the carriage, looking quite hot and eager. He had been to some other place, and hunted this one up. Is it not a beauty?”
It was one of the round Bruce brooches, of dark pebble, with a silver fern-leaf lying across it, the dots of small Cairngorm stones. “The Glenbracken badge, you know,” continued Flora.
Ethel twisted it about in her fingers, and said, “Was not it meant for you?”
“It was to oblige me, if you choose so to regard it,” said Flora, smiling. “He gave me no injunctions; but, you see, you must wear it now. I shall not wear coloured brooches for a year.”
Ethel sighed. She felt as if her black dress ought, perhaps, to be worn for a nearer cause. She had a great desire to keep that Glenbracken brooch; and surely it could not be wrong. To refuse it would be much worse, and would only lead to Flora’s keeping it, and not caring for it.
“Then it is your present, Flora?”
“If you like better to call it so, my dear. I find Norman Ogilvie is going abroad in a few months. I think we ought to ask him here on his way.”