“His wife wrote the letter telling of his death, and that he asked grand-auntie to forgive him—and that was all. She has never been able to find the wife nor the son.”
“’Tis sad,” sighed Inna; “because she might have been so fond of the son.”
“Papa’s portrait is at Wyvern Court—that’s grand-auntie’s own place, you know. Grand-auntie says we shall be twin heiresses by-and-by.”
[p69]
“And your papa is—” here Inna flushed at her inquisitive question.
“Dead; and mamma too,” said grave-browed Olive.
“Do you like living at the farm with your uncle?” inquired sprightly Sybil.
“Yes; only I haven’t been there long—and—and a grand-uncle isn’t like a grand-auntie,” said Inna.
“And Dr. Willett hasn’t got a broken heart,” returned Sybil; “I suppose doctors don’t have broken hearts.”
Well, the three dined in state at six with Madame Giche; the children were having a rather free-and-easy time of it, for their governess, Miss Gordon, was away nursing somebody ill, and so they did very much as they listed, so long as they did not weary their aged relative.
What a charmed life was that into which Inna took her one day’s peep, and the outcome of it all was that when Miss Gordon returned she was to go up to the Owl’s Nest, and have lessons with the twins. Meantime, she often spent a day there, and was brought home of an evening in the carriage; then Sybil and [p70] Olive came for tea at the farm, and, after a delightful evening spent in roasting chestnuts and the like, went back in their turn in the carriage, the happiest girls, perhaps, alive. Thus for a time all went merrily as Christmas bells; but one morning Oscar broke the pleasant spell by announcing, “I’m not going down to Mr. Fane’s to-day,” as Inna waited for him at the door to walk as far as the Rectory gates with him, on her way to the Owl’s Nest, her seat of learning.