She looked very fair and sweet sitting there in a cool, white morning-dress, trimmed in lace and dotted about with several bows of black ribbon. Her beautiful hair, which was growing long and thick again, fell upon her shoulders in loose curls, like glints of sunshine.
She had broken a spray of white hyacinth and pinned it on her bosom, and she looked as pure and sweet as the flower itself.
"I am very sorry," she was thinking to herself, "that I was so unfortunate as to win Colonel Carlyle's affection. I certainly never dreamed of such a thing, and a year ago I should have laughed in the face of any old man who dared propose to me, and have told him I did not wish to marry my grandfather. Heigh-ho! I have grown graver now, and do not turn everything into a jest as I did then. Still, I wish it had not happened. I liked him simply as my father's friend, and I thought he liked me just as papa's daughter."
She sighed heavily.
"I think I understand some things now that have puzzled me all the winter," she mused. "He was Felise's lover when I first came, and I have unconsciously rivaled her. She hates me for it, and Aunt Arnold hates me, too. Ah! if they knew all that I knew they need not be afraid. Felise is welcome to him, and I will try to induce him to return to her. I never thought that Colonel Carlyle could have acted so basely toward her, as it seems he has——"
Mrs. Arnold's sudden entrance into the room interrupted her meditations. She looked so angry and overbearing that Bonnibel rose and was about leaving the room when she was recalled abruptly.
"Stay, Bonnibel; I wish to speak with you. Resume your seat, if you please."
Flushing with resentment at the insolent authority of the tone, Bonnibel turned and faced the lady with a gleam of pride shining in her blue eyes.
"Pardon me," she answered, coldly. "I will hear what you have to say standing."
"As you please," said Mrs. Arnold, with a sneer. "Perhaps your strength may not stand the ordeal, however."