So they parted, and Edith stepped homewards with a lightened heart.
Mr. and Mrs. Blake received her news quietly. They would rather the intimacy had not been renewed, but for Winnie's sake no opposition would be made now. They would find out Miss Latimer's present home, and call on her that evening. As for telling Winnie, it might be better, perhaps, to keep her still in ignorance till the following day.
Clare alone turned up her haughty nose when Edith related the morning's adventure, and inquired if she too were becoming infected with the Latimer mania. "For my part," concluded the proud girl, "I think our parents very foolish—encouraging Winnie in all her whims and fancies. There will be no end to them soon. I am very sorry for the child, but I still decidedly disapprove of giving in to her continually. I should not be surprised if this wonderful Aunt Judith becomes a daily visitor before long. However, I wash my hands of the whole affair." And lifting a book, Clare passed out through the window into the garden; while Edith, disgusted at the cruel words, went slowly upstairs, and placed Dick's precious letter in Winnie's hands.
It was a wonderful epistle, spiced with grand nautical phrases, and brimful of the truly marvellous and incredible in nature. Winnie laughed heartily over the absurd yarns, described with sailor-like veracity, and then gave a little cry of joy when Edith, who was reading the letter aloud, ended with the following words:—"And now, my dear little Win, if we have favourable weather you may expect to see your dear old Dick home about the end of September; and won't we have a jolly time of it then! No end of larks and mischief. I suppose you will still be at Maple Bank when my ship comes in, so" (here Edith stopped, but the child bade her read every single word) "see and keep well and strong, that you may be able to enjoy all sorts of capers with—Your loving sailor brother, DICK."
"Don't look at me like that, Edith," said Winnie, when the long letter was carefully folded up and returned to its envelope. "I am not going to cry or even think; my heart is too sore. No one must tell Dick till he comes home. Let him remain in ignorance as long as possible." Then she closed her eyes wearily and remained silent. But Edith was not to be deceived by any apparent calmness or resignation, and knew only too well that the child's whole soul was crying out in rebellion at the sad trial which had befallen her.
Daylight stole softly, silently away; the summer breeze sighing a dreamy even-song through the forest trees, lulled the singing birds to rest; the little flowers drooped their pretty heads, and closed their dewy petals in slumber; the busy whirr and hum of insects ceased,—and the nature-world was hushed in sleep. Only the restless sea broke on the peaceful calm with its ceaseless swish-swish of waves. And far, far out on the ocean breast, leaning over the bulwark of a gallant ship, homeward bound, was a young sailor, gazing across the moonlit waters, and thinking of the bright fairy sister waiting to give him a joyous welcome back.
CHAPTER XVI.
LIGHT IN DARKNESS.
"How pretty my room is to-day, Edith! You have made it all bright and fairy-like with flowers. Yes, open the blinds, please, and let the sunshine in; my head is really better this morning, and I wish all the light I can possibly get." So spoke Winnie, as she watched her sister scattering sweet posies of flowers throughout the entire room, and felt the sweet, subtle perfume of "the flowers that in earth's firmament do shine."