“If it were quite right to marry for a home, papa—” Graeme hesitated and coloured. Her father smiled.
“Mrs Nasmyth is not so young as you, my dear. She will see things differently. And besides, she always liked and respected Mr Snow. I have no doubt she will be very happy with him.”
“We all liked him,” said Graeme, sighing. “But oh! I dread changes. I can’t bear to break up our old ways.”
“Graeme,” said her father, gravely, “changes must come, and few changes can be for the better, as far as we are concerned. We have been very happy of late—so happy that I fear we were in danger of sitting down contented with the things of this life, and we need reminding. We may think ourselves happy if no sadder change than this comes to us.”
The thought of Menie came back to Graeme, with a pang, but she did not speak.
“I know, dear,” said her father, kindly, “this will come hardest upon you. It will add greatly to your cares to have Mrs Nasmyth leave us, but you are not a child now, and—”
“Oh, papa! it is not that—I mean it is not that altogether, but—” Graeme paused. She was not sure of her voice, and she could not bear to grieve her father. In a little, she asked.
“When is it to be?”
“I don’t know, indeed, but soon, I suppose; and my dear child, I trust to you to make smooth much that might otherwise be not agreeable in this matter to us all. The change you dread so much, will not be very great. Our kind friend is not going very far-away, and there will be pleasant things connected with the change. I have no doubt, it will be for the best.”
“Shall I light your lamp, papa?” said Graeme, in a little while.