The occasion in question was an evening in which Isola and her husband had been bidden to a friendly dinner, on their way through London, by the clergyman’s widow with whom Allegra lived while she pursued her study of art at a famous school in St. John’s Wood. The clergyman’s widow, Mrs. Meynell, was a distant cousin of the Disneys, and Allegra’s home had been with her from the time she left school. The extent of her wanderings after she was old enough to be sent to a boarding-school had been from Falmouth to Kensington, and from Kensington to St. John’s Wood, with occasional holidays in the Isle of Thanet.
“I thought she was very fresh and bright and loving,” answered Isola, “and I could see even in that one evening that she was very fond of you.”
“Yes, God bless her, there is no doubt about that. I have been brother and father too for her. She has had no one but me since our mother’s death.”
“Shall I write and ask her to come to us, Martin, or will you?”
“I fancy she would take it more as a compliment if the invitation went straight from you. She would know that I would be glad to have her, but she might feel a little doubtful about you.”
“Then I’ll write to her to-day, Martin, and beg her to come at once—as soon as ever she can pack her boxes.”
“That’s my darling! I hope she won’t bore you when she is here. I have a shrewd idea she’ll make your life happier. She’ll awaken you from that languor which has grown upon you in your loneliness.”
“At least I’ll try to make her happy, Martin, if it is only for your sake.”
“Ah, and you will soon love her for her own sake.”
“I’ll get the boat looked to at once, and I’ll see about making the spare room pretty for her,” said Isola.