But she detached herself suddenly.
"I'd ever so much rather you didn't pet me while you are telling me."
"Oh, very well!" said Mrs. Mitford in a displeased tone. "I have always thought it, and I must say it: I don't think you have a scrap of heart, Christian. You are the only girl I have ever heard of who would submit to her parents leaving her for six years without even a murmur."
"You didn't say the number of years, mother," answered Christian.
"Stop, Mary," said her husband; "you must allow me to speak to the child. I am very pleased with you, Christian, for having control of your feelings. I don't for a moment think that you are heartless. Far from it," he added, putting his hand under her chin and looking into the deep eyes that could scarcely meet his gaze—"far from it," he continued, and he patted her on the shoulder. "You are a good girl, just like your grandmother, and you have got pluck and endurance. Now, do you know what we are going to do with you? You are our little girl, and very, very dear to us."
"Of course, Christian, you are our only child," said her mother. "We shall be very proud of you when we come back; you will be accomplished then. You will remember what I wish: you are to be a great musician and a great singer, and your French is to be——"
"My dear," said her husband, "had you not better let me explain to Christian what her position will be during our absence?"
"All right, Patrick; only I did think that the child would like her mother to talk to her."
"So I do, mother," said Christian.