“We ought all to count the cost before we enter upon any line of conduct, and I would most strongly warn any one against the self-deception of fancying that he who wishes to be an ambassador of peace can do otherwise than weep bitterly.”—Frederick Denison Maurice.
During the weeks that followed, the only thing which marred Ivy’s complete happiness was a certain jealousy of the bright-faced girl they had met at Westminster Abbey on Christmas Day. She was constantly asking Ralph questions about Evereld Ewart; at times he seemed pleased to talk of her, at other times his face would grow grave and he would answer only in monosyllables in a way which perplexed his small devotee not a little. However, she gathered that he did not see any more of his old friend and consoled herself by hurrying off to Whiteley’s sale to buy a jacket and hat as much like Evereld’s as her purse would afford.
She wore them for the first time on the foggy February morning when Ralph called for her at her grandfather’s rooms to take her to King’s Cross. For it had been arranged that she should travel with him to Dumfries where he was to place her under the special care of the manager’s wife. The old Professor seemed much depressed when the parting actually came; he kept looking at the child with wistful eyes and slowly counting out money for the journey with a small, a very small surplus, in case of accidents as he said.
“Have you kept enough for yourself?” asked Ivy, throwing her arms round his neck. “I shall be away six months you know.”
“I have enough to last me a couple of months,” said the old man, “with what my pupils will bring in. And by that time you will be able to send me a little. You are to have a good salary—a very good salary and no travelling expenses when once you’re in Scotland.”
“Yes, yes,” said Ivy, gaily. “I shall be as rich as a queen when I come back.”
The old man’s eyes filled with tears.
“Yes, when you come back,” he said, huskily, “When you come back. You will do what you can for her if she needs help?” he added, shaking hands tremulously with Ralph.
“I will, indeed,” said Ralph, heartily; and there was something in his look and tone which satisfied the Professor and robbed the parting of its worst pain.
Ivy, too much excited to feel the leave-taking, sprang into the cab with a joyous sense that at last, like the heroine of a fairy tale, she was setting out into the world to seek her fortune. It was scarcely right that she should be starting with the fairy prince beside her, he ought to have turned up later in the plot and just at some critical moment. Still real life could not always be regulated by the rules of fiction and she reflected that it was much nicer to have him at once.