“But you, at least, will not think of leaving us so soon,” pleaded Lady Maude; “consider how short a time since we have met, and how long we have been parted. Indeed, I will not hear of parting with you yet.”
“Oh, pray, Ray, don’t go,” said Erminie, gently; “what could we all ever do without you? Do stay, like a dear, good boy.”
“You must have a heart of flint if you can resist all these pleadings,” said Lord De Courcy, drawing Erminie fondly toward him. “Come, Miss Lawless, will you not aid my little girl, here, in persuading this ungrateful scapegrace of ours from running away?”
“Oh, there is no use in me asking anybody to do anything,” said Pet, coloring slightly, yet looking saucy still, “because they never do it; if Minnie—beg pardon, Lady Erminie, can’t persuade him, then there is no use in my trying.”
“Now, Pet,” said Erminie, reproachfully, and blushing at her new-found title.
“Come, my dear boy, consent to stay with us for some weeks, at least,” said Lady Maude, looking up, coaxingly, in his handsome face.
“Your ladyship’s will is my law,” said Ray, a smile breaking through the grave sadness of his face.
“That is right! when are we to start, my lord?”
“Early to-morrow, if you like. Mrs. Germaine,” he said, glancing at Marguerite, “I know is impatient to embrace her daughter.”
“I wish you were coming, too, Pet,” said Erminie, going over and putting her arm around Pet’s small waist.