'Somehow, Miss Carlyon,' she whispered after a time, 'I don't get on well with grandmamma. It is my fault, of course: I suppose I am a little wretch!'
The friendship of these—though one was a wealthy heiress and the other but a poor companion—grew rapidly apace; both were too warm hearted, too affectionate and impulsive by habit, for it to be otherwise, and it enabled them to pass hours together—though young girls, like older ones, dearly love a little gossip of their own kind—without any sense of embarrassment or weariness; for ere long it came to pass that they shared their mutual confidence; and, as we shall show, Finella came to speak of Vivian Hammersley to Dulcie, and the latter to her of Florian. But there was something in Dulcie's sweet soft face that made people older than Finella confide to her their troubles and difficulties, for she was quick to sympathise with and to understand all kinds of grief and sorrow.
One evening as they walked together on the terrace, and tossed biscuit to a pair of stately long-necked swans, the white plumage of which gleamed like snow in the setting sun as they swam gently to and fro in an ornamental pond (a portion of the old moat) that lay in front of the house, Dulcie said, with tears of gratitude glittering in her blue eyes—
'You have done me a world of good by your great kindness of heart to me, Finella—oh, I beg your pardon—Miss Melfort I mean—the name escaped me,' exclaimed Dulcie, covered with confusion.
'Call me always Finella,' said the other emphatically.
'Oh, I dare not do so before Lady Fettercairn.'
'Then do so at other times, Dulcie. You talk of doing you good—I do not believe anyone could have the heart to do you harm.'
'Why?'
'You seem so good—so pure, so simple. Oh, I do love you, Dulcie!' she exclaimed, with true girlish effusiveness.
'I thank you very much; and yet we think you Scotch folks are cold and stiff.'