St. Martin's Eve: A Novel

by Mrs. Henry Wood

"My dear, you are looking better than I hoped for."

"I am pretty well, mamma. I wish Prance would come in with Georgy!" she continued fretfully. "I want you to see him, he is so grown!"

"Dear little fellow! I was so sorry that I could not come over at the time, Charlotte, but----"

"It did not matter," interrupted Mrs. St. John, speaking quickly. "Indeed I think I was best alone. You know, mamma"--turning her deep eyes full upon her mother--"I was always given to being independent. How is Rose?"

"Oh, dear!" returned Mrs. Darling, with a groan, as if recalled to some very annoying subject. "Don't talk of Rose."

A half smile crossed the young widow's lips. "Has she been doing anything very dreadful?"

"No: but she is so rebellious."

"Rebellious!"

"At being kept at school. Mary Anne and Margaret fully expected she would break bounds and conceal herself on board the boat. We had sighted Folkestone before they felt any sort of assurance that she was not there."

"Did Mary Anne and Margaret come over with you?"