CHAPTER VI.
On my return home, to my inexpressible surprise and delight, I find Roland. During my absence he has arrived, totally unexpected by any member of the household; and the small excitement his appearance causes makes him doubly welcome, as anything that startles us out of our humdrum existence is hailed with positive rapture. Even mother, whose mind is still wonderfully fresh and young, considering all the years she has passed under papa's thumb, enters freely into the general merriment, and forgets for the time being her daily cares.
"You see, I found I would be here almost as soon as a letter," explains Roland; "and, as I hate writing like a nightmare, I resolved to take you a little by surprise."
Mother, radiant, is sitting near him, regarding him with humid eyes. If dear mother had been married to an indulgent husband she would have been a dreadful goose. Even as it is she possesses a talent for weeping upon all occasions only to be equalled by mine.
"How did you manage to get away so soon again, Roly?" I ask, when I have embraced him as much as he will allow.
"I hardly know. Luck, I fancy—and the colonel—did it. The old boy, you see, has a weakness for me which I return by having a weakness for the old boy's daughter. Mother"—languidly—"may I marry the old boy's daughter? She is an extremely pretty little girl, young, with fifteen thousand pounds; but I would not like to engage myself to her without your full consent."
Mother laughs and passes her hand with a light caressing gesture over his charming face.
"Conceited boy!" she murmurs, fondly; "there is little chance you will ever do so much good for yourself."
"Don't be too sure. At all events, I have your consent?"
"Yes, and my blessing, too," says mother, laughing again.