After they had finished tea, Mrs. Ardayre suggested that she should go to her room.
"I am tired, Amaryllis, my dear," she announced cheerily,—"and I shall rest for an hour before dinner."
"Come then and I will show you both your rooms."
They came up the broad staircase with her, Denzil a step at a time, slowly, and at the top she stopped and said to him:
"Perhaps you will remember that is the door of the cedar parlour at the end of the passage—you will find me there when I have installed your mother comfortably. Your room is next to hers," and she pointed to two doors through the archway of the gallery. Then she went on with Mrs. Ardayre.
Some contrary nervousness made her remain for quite a little while.
Was Cousin Beatrice sure that she was comfortable? Had she everything she wanted? Her maid was already unpacking, and all was warm and fresh scented with lavender and bowls of violets on the dressing table.
"My dear child, it is Paradise, and you are a perfect angel—I shall revel in it after the cold journey down."
So at last there was no excuse to stay longer, and Amaryllis left the room; but in the passage it seemed as though her knees were trembling, and as she passed the top of the staircase she leaned for a second or two on the balustrade.
The longed for moment had come!