“Yes, if you have dear ones who love you,” Star returned, with a deep-drawn sigh.
A wistful look shot into the young man’s eyes at this.
“You have no parents, then?” he inquired, in tones of sympathy.
“No. Mamma died more than a year ago, and papa has been gone three months. I have no brothers or sisters, no home, only some distant relatives in America whom I have never seen. They promised papa to give me a home until my education is completed, when I intend to teach.”
“Was your home in England?”
“Yes, in Derbyshire. Papa was a clergyman in Chesterfield.”
“Was your home in Derbyshire?” Archibald Sherbrooke asked, with a slight start, while his face lighted.
“Yes; were you ever there?”
“Often.”
“Isn’t it a lovely country?” Star asked, eagerly, so glad to meet one who knew where her home had been. “Can you imagine anything more delightful than a drive or a canter across the Derbyshire moors?”