On approaching the château, she found Stephen sitting quite alone, under a tree, crying. "What is the matter, Stephen?" she asked, kissing him.
"I am hungry."
"Hungry! why what o'clock is it?"
"It is twelve o'clock."
"But you have already had your breakfast?"
"No; Mary forgot to make my soup. Nobody thinks about me now that mamma is gone."
"I will think of you, my dear child. Come with me, I will get you some breakfast, and tomorrow you shall not have to wait so long." On entering the house, she inquired for her father. She was told that he had come in, and had asked for her, and, after waiting some time, had gone out again. "But he has had his breakfast, I suppose?"
"No, miss, the cook has gone out."
"Things must not go on thus," thought Caroline; "I must have some order in the household." She perceived at this moment her father coming in, and hastened to meet him; she was eager to have some conversation with him, and impart to him her good resolutions; but the very first was, to attend to others rather than herself, and she therefore sacrificed to Stephen's appetite her desire of communicating to her father her new projects. After breakfast, M. de Manzay was going towards his wife's sitting-room, where he passed all the time which he spent in-doors. Caroline, who wished to follow him, paused for an instant at this sight: she never yet had sufficient resolution to enter her mother's apartment, and trembled at the idea of revisiting a spot so filled with her image. "But how can I ever be of service to my father, if I cannot go where it is his desire always to remain? Come, I must go to him;" and, making an effort to command her feelings, she went to her father. Surprised and pleased to see her in this room, where his recollections became almost realities, he embraced her with even more than his wonted tenderness; and, comparing, with a pleasure mingled with grief, the portrait of his wife with the features of his daughter,—"Oh, my child!" he exclaimed at length, his voice checked by tears, "I have only you now." She threw her arms round him, and for some time neither father nor daughter could utter a word. At length, overcoming her emotion, she said, "My dear papa, I have hitherto done very wrong, but I will endeavour to repair my faults. I have been a selfish, ungrateful child, and lived only for myself; henceforth my life shall be devoted to you. Forgive me for having been so useless to you; forget the past; you shall see that I am no longer the same, and you shall be satisfied with my conduct. Kiss me, dear papa; I will correct all my faults, and endeavour to be like mamma."
"God bless you, my child, for having formed such a project! but you are very young to make even the attempt."