"You have not seen my little half-brother and sister yet. They are beautiful and charming little children, and love me dearly already," she said. "Their governess, Miss Erroll, is one of the handsomest women I ever saw—fair and stately, and with that look in her face, somehow, as of one who has an interesting story in her past."
"And do you know the story?"
"Oh, no; she came to mamma from New York, I believe, with very good recommendations. That is all we know; but the children get on well with her, and she seems to study to please every one."
They were alone in Cissy's dainty room, lounging at ease in their pretty dressing-gowns. It was bedtime and past, but Geraldine could not tear herself away.
"Are you tired of me? Do you want me to go?" she queried.
"I could talk to you all night, darling!" cried Cissy, brightly, without guessing to what the confession would lead.
But Geraldine came over and put a coaxing arm around her neck.
"I'm so glad you aren't tired, for, Cissy, I'm just dying to take up our conversation where we left it off, you know, that Christmas evening when we were parted so suddenly."
"Oh!" cried Cissy, remembrance rushing over her in a burning wave.