What had she said that brought a cloud across the girl's face? A very momentary one, no doubt, for it soon passed. Yet long after, when Nora was outwardly engaged at a game with her cousins and Eric, she seemed to feel the touch of a hand on her head and brow, and to hear the old nurse's voice as she said:
"I was wonderin', my lambie, what kind o' a crown is to sit on your bonnie brow. Is it to be the crown o' a vain world's folly, or the everlasting ane your mother prayed might rest there? Ye canna hae baith, I'm thinkin', missie."
Why not? She was asking herself, when Eric spoke impatiently:—
"Nora, it is your turn now. What are you dreaming about? I declare you just looked like Ronald in a dreamy fit just now."
Nora started. "All right; I forgot it was my turn."
And then the game went on.
The girls became great friends. Clara was much attracted by her bright young cousin, and determined to ask her parents, on her return home, to invite her to come and live with them for a while. There was much that was amiable and lovable in Clara's nature; but the crust which a worldly upbringing causes to grow over the heart and affections was beginning to grow on hers. An ardent nature, which in her early days sought eagerly for love, for love's own sweet sake, was now seeking rather for admiration, with its deadening influences. No one had spoken to her of that which is "better than gold, and above rubies."
The drive home in the evening light was a quiet one. Even Eric's spirits were subdued by the day's frolic, and Nora was more than usually thoughtful. Clara's words, unwilling as she was to allow it, had done their work: the visions of a town life, and plenty of companions and amusements, were strangely blended in her young mind with thoughts of sparkling rubies and an unfading crown.
At last she broke the silence by the question—
"Uncle, do you and aunt never mean to go to Edinburgh for the winter, even after Minnie and Charlie are old enough for school?"