he day was lovely, and Ermengarde woke once more in the best of spirits. Notwithstanding her unhappy day, she had enjoyed herself much the night before. She had worn Lilias's simple white dress, and Marjorie's Maltese cross with its narrow gold chain had given to her appearance just that finish which best suited her youth.
Ermengarde had looked remarkably pretty, and many people had noticed the fact, and one or two of Mr. Wilton's gentlemen friends had congratulated him in quite audible tones on having such a charming and lovely little daughter. Ermengarde had herself heard these words, and had seen a glow, half of sadness half of pleasure, light up her father's dark eyes, and her own heart had swelled within her. She began to know the difference between real praise and flattery. She thought how fascinating it would all be when she was really grown up, and dull lessons were over, and Miss Nelson was no longer of the slightest consequence, when she could dress as she pleased, and do as she liked.
In the agreeable feelings which these thoughts gave her, she forgot about Basil's displeasure. She ceased to remember that the dearest friendship of her life was in danger of being broken, was so jeopardized that it was scarcely likely that the severed threads could ever be reunited with their old strength. Ermengarde was away from all unpleasant things, her fears about Flora were completely removed, and it was in her selfish and pleasure-loving nature to shut herself away from the memory of what worried her, and to enter fully into the delights of her present life. She rose gayly, and no one could have been merrier than she when she joined Lilias at the breakfast-table. The two girls had this meal again alone in Lilias Russell's pretty boudoir.
"Shall we ride, or go out in the yacht?" said Lilias to her companion. "I heard father making all arrangements for a sail last night, and I know he'll take us if we ask him. Which would you like best, Ermie? If you are a sailor, I can promise you a good jolly time on board the Albatross. I was so sorry you were not with us yesterday."
"Oh, I am a capital sailor," said Ermengarde. "We were at the Isle of Wight last year, and Basil and I sailed nearly every day. Maggie used to get sick, but we never did."
"There's just a lovely breeze getting up to-day," said Lilias. "I'm so glad you like sailing, Ermie, for I know we shall just have a perfect time. If you'll stay here for a few minutes, I'll run and ask father if he will take us with them."
Lilias stepped out through the open window, and Ermengarde leant against a trellised pillar in the veranda, and looked out over the peaceful summer scene, her pretty eyes full of a dreamy content. She was so happy at the thought that Flora was really gone that she felt very good and amiable; she liked herself all the better for having such nice, comfortable, kindly thoughts about everyone. Even Eric could scarcely have extracted a sharp retort from her at this moment.
Lilias came flying back. "It's all right!" she exclaimed. "The Albatross sails in an hour, and we are to meet father and Mr. Wilton, and the other gentlemen who are going to sail, on the quay at half-past eleven. I shall wear my white serge boating-costume. Have you anything pretty to put on, Ermie?"
"Nothing as nice as that," said Ermengarde with a jealous look. "There's my dark blue serge, but it will look dowdy beside your white."
"I have two white serge boating-dresses," said Lilias. "I will lend you one if you will let me. Our figures are almost exactly alike, and we are the same height. My dress had scarcely to be altered at all for you last night. Come, Ermie, don't look so solemn. You shall look charming, I promise, and I will make you up such a posy to wear in your button-hole. Now, shall we stroll about, or just sit here and be lazy?"