Action—decisive action—always brings relief. An hour after it had come into her possession, Clodagh had dispatched Deerehurst's cheque to her bankers in London; and when, at seven o'clock, she entered Nance's room with the intention of dressing for the night's festivities, she was carrying a cheque from her own book.
As she came into the room, Nance was kneeling before her trunk; but at the sound of the closing door she looked round, and sprang to her feet with a cry of delight.
"Clo!" she cried, running forward—"Clo, how lovely of you to come! Shall we dress together, like long ago?" Then her eyes fell to the folded slip of paper in Clodagh's hand. "What is that?" she asked curiously.
Clodagh looked down at the cheque.
"I have come to do my duty!" she said, with a faint laugh. "Here is your thousand pounds, darling. May it be enough to buy everything in life worth having!"
Her voice faltered on the last words; but the touch of emotion was lost in a sudden embrace from Nance.
"Oh, you darling!—you love!" she cried. "A thousand pounds! I feel a queen!" She drew back a little, flushing with excitement and pleasure; and opened the cheque almost reverently. "And can I really, really get a thousand pounds by signing my name on the back of this? I can't believe it, you know—I simply can't."
She raised her shining eyes to Clodagh's.
Clodagh's face softened.
"Oh, you child!" she said—"you child! It makes me remember our weekly pennies, just to listen to you. How poor—and how very happy—we were long ago! Do you remember?"