“Amethyst, Amethyst! my darling, my darling! Here you are at last I’ll never, never let you go again!”
The last words were spoken as she clung round her sister’s neck, almost stifling Amethyst’s words of greeting.
“My darling, you won’t let me speak, or look at you! Where’s Aunt Anna,—not at home?”
“She has taken Carrie to have a singing lesson. Come in; I am to give you tea, and take care of you.”
Soon Amethyst was sitting in a low chair by the fire, with Una kneeling at her side, leaning against her, and clinging to her, as some one had once said, like bindweed round a lily, a comparison resented by Amethyst as derogatory to Una. She alone knew what this clinging, dependent creature had been to her ever since, for Una’s sake, she had tried to “make things better.”
“Are you quite well, dear? and do you like being here? Have you got on with Aunt Anna?” she asked, tenderly.
“Oh, as well as can be without you. I do like it. Oh! I have a great deal to tell you. Only first I want to hear how everything is settled. Is the house in Eaton Square nice?”
“Yes, there will be plenty of room for Auntie and Carrie Carisbrooke, and you know mother will let them be quite independent. And you are all to be there. Mother wouldn’t hear of sending even Kattern and Tory to Cleverley; and as for you, she insisted on your going to the Drawing-room, and coming out regularly.”
“I? I should be half-killed with an hour of a London party. What can my lady want me for?” said Una, with a startled look.
“She says she may never be able to give you so good a chance. I said I thought that London was bad for you, and that I was sure you could not do much. But she said that it was more amusing for you to do what you could, and she liked to have us all with her. So I must take great care of you, and we must see how it answers for you.”