Graeme lingered talking to their visitor, till her father should be quite at liberty.
“I have something for you,” said Mr Greenleaf, in a minute. Graeme smiled her thanks, and held out her hand for the expected book, or magazine. It was a note this time.
“From Celestia!” she exclaimed, colouring a little.
Graeme did not aspire to the honour of Celestia’s confidence in all things, but she knew, or could guess enough, about the state of affairs between her friend and Mr Greenleaf, to be wonderfully interested in them, and she could not help feeling a little embarrassed, as she took the note, from his hands.
“Read it,” said he.
Graeme stooped down to catch the firelight. The note was very brief. Celestia was going away, and wished Graeme to come and see her, to-morrow. Mr Greenleaf would fetch her.
“Celestia, going away!” she exclaimed, raising herself up.
“Yes,” said he, “have you not heard it?”
“I heard the farm was to be sold, but I hoped they would still stay in Merleville.”
“So did I,” said Mr Greenleaf, gravely.