"I felt I must come down and see you all before you fly away. In particular, I want to speak to you."
"Yes," said Caroline.
"Are you tired?" Haverford asked rather abruptly. "Shall we walk?"
She got up at once.
"It is so delightful out here at this time. I will take you to Betty's garden. There is a rose waiting for you, Mr. Haverford. It was going to be sent by post in a box to-morrow. I don't know that I dare pick it, but you may look at it."
As they passed under the interlacing branches of the trees, he said—
"I thought you would like to know that my mother spoke of you several times. She has bequeathed to you some odds and ends of jewellery which I fancy must have belonged to your mother. I cannot say that she spoke kindly," he said, with half a sigh; "but at least she remembered."
"It grieved me," said Caroline, in a low voice, "to know that she suffered so much."
He sighed.
"At times it was terrible. What stuff some of you women are made of! She had her faults, my poor mother, but she had marvellous qualities. In some ways you remind me of her, only you are not in the least masculine."