"Your guardian has arrived, love," she said, sitting down beside the bed and taking Clara's hand.
"Oh, must I get up and dress to see a stranger?" sighed Clara, wearily.
"No, love; you need not stir until it is time to dress for dinner; it will answer quite well if you meet your guardian at table," said Marah, who had particular reasons for wishing that Clara should first see Colonel Le Noir with other company, to have an opportunity of observing him well and possibly forming an estimate of his character (as a young girl of her fine instincts might well do) before she should be exposed in a tête-a-tête to those deceptive blandishments he knew so well how to bring into play.
"That is a respite. Oh, dear Mrs. Rocke, you don't know how I dread to see any one!"
"My dear Clara, you must combat grief by prayer, which is the only thing that can overcome it," said Marah.
Mrs. Rocke remained with her young charge as long as she possibly could, and then she went down-stairs to oversee the preparation of the dinner.
And it was at the dinner-table that Marah, with the quiet and gentle dignity for which she was distinguished, introduced the younger members of the family to the guest, in these words:
"Your ward, Miss Day, Colonel Le Noir."
The colonel bowed deeply and raised the hand of Clara to his lips, murmuring some sweet, soft, silvery and deferentially inaudible words of condolence, sympathy and melancholy pleasure, from which Clara, with a gentle bend of her head, withdrew to take her seat.
"Colonel Le Noir, my son, Doctor Rocke," said Marah, presenting Traverse.