“But I thought young Ogilvie a most unexceptionable person.”
“So he is,” said Flora. “I was much annoyed at the time, but she was resolute.”
“In rejecting him?”
“In running away as soon as she found what was likely to happen;” and Flora, in a few words, told what had passed at Oxford.
“Then it was entirely out of devotion to your father?”
“Entirely,” said Flora. “No one could look at her without seeing that she liked him. I had left her to be the only effective one at home, and she sacrificed herself.”
“I am glad that I have seen her,” said Mrs. Arnott. “I should never have understood her by description. I always said that I must come home to set my correspondence going rightly.”
“Aunt Flora,” said her niece, “do you remember my dear mother’s unfinished letter to you?”
“To be sure I do, my dear.”
“Nothing ever was more true,” said Flora. “I read it over some little time ago, when I set my papers in order, and understood it then. I never did before. I used to think it very good for the others.”