"I do not think his age was any objection," cried Laurel, hastily, and blushing very much.
"No, indeed, and it did not prove so in this case," smiled Beatrix. "He would not take her No for an answer. He never rested until he made pretty Clarice 'my lady.'"
"It is very romantic. I shall make it a plot for a novel," declared Laurel. "I dare say Clarice would not scold me now for aspiring above my station," she added, with a pretty, pensive smile.
"I dare say not," said Beatrix, greatly amused. "Exceptions alter cases."
[CHAPTER LXVII.]
In five weeks after that tragedy at the seashore Laurel announced her intention of returning to Belle Vue. She had convalesced very rapidly, and the bloom and beauty of health were fast returning to her lovely face. Nothing was left to remind one of her almost fatal illness save the short, soft rings of sunny hair that clustered all over the beautiful, graceful head. Beatrix grieved sorely over the loss of that wealth of golden tresses from her friend's head, but after all it scarcely detracted from Laurel's beauty. The pretty, babyish ringlets lent a spirituelle charm to the fair face and made a halo about the brow that made her "half of earth and half divine."
"Let us go home to Belle Vue," she said, pleadingly, to her uncle and he eager to gratify her slightest wish, consented. They wished to have Beatrix and her mother go with them, but they excused themselves and promised to come later on.
"When Laurel has left you and you feel lonely," said Mrs. Gordon, with a smile.