"Well, it is a pity," said Hargrave; "she would look well in it, but I am sorry I spoke of it, if it has given her so much trouble."
Mabel stopped at the table, and taking up the print, exclaimed—
"I remember seeing something like this at Gibraltar. Perhaps I could make it—may I try," she said, glancing at the crape which Caroline had been cutting and wasting.
"If you think you can do it," returned Caroline, "do take it and try—but I want to wear it to-night, at the ball."
"Then give me everything," said she, her manner excited from the scene in the library; and gathering up the crape, ribbon, and wire into her apron, she took the print and hurried to the library. When she entered, Mr. Villars was seated by the fire, with some papers on his knees, but the look of gloom had again settled on his usually patient face. "Oh, I am so sorry to have kept you waiting," she said, anxiously, "but look how much work I had to bring—now I am quite ready."
Mr. Villars said nothing, but appeased by the affectionate warmth of her manner began reading.
She listened attentively, and gladly found herself interested, without an effort, as she heard with surprise sentences, in a style of boldness, and purity of devotion, which she had scarcely expected.
Mutually pleased, the hours slipped away, Mr. Villars charmed by the attention of his listener, while she busily continued her work.
The small greasy rain dimmed the window, and darkened the room, till the shades of evening closed upon them, but its influence had ceased. A cheerful smile shewed the pleasure of the author, and the renewed hope with which he began to feel inspired.
"I scarcely know if I like the name—'The Merchant's Recollections;' it is scarcely striking enough," said Mabel, when he stopped to rest.