“That’s right, my dear,” said Miss Pimpernell; “I’m glad, Seraphine, to hear you take the part of the absent; Miss Clyde ought to be here now—she promised me to come soon after luncheon.”
Even as the good old soul spoke, I heard the outer door of the school-room open, and a light footstep along the passage. “There she is now, I do believe!” whispered Miss Pimpernell to me.
I could scarcely breathe. I felt that I had at last arrived at the crisis of my life. It must be her, I thought, for my heart palpitated with wild pulsations.
And, as the thought thrilled through me, my lost madonna entered the room.
I was not one whit surprised. I had been certain that I should see her again!
Chapter Four.
“Hope.”
“The wit, the vivid energy of sense,
The truth of nature, which, with Attic point,
And kind, well-temper’d satire, smoothly keen,
Steals through the soul, and without pain corrects.”