Fenwick's Career

by Mrs. Humphry Ward

At the sound of the girl's step Eugénie turned.

'Carrie!' she cried, involuntarily—'you are Carrie!' And she came forward, impetuously holding out both her hands. 'How like the picture—how like!'

And Eugénie gazed in delight at the small, slight creature, so actively and healthily built, in spite of her fairy proportions, at the likeness to Fenwick in hair and skin, at the apple-freshness of her colour, the beauty of her eyes, the lightness of her pretty feet.

Twelve years!—and then to find this, dropped into your arms by the gods—this living, breathing promise of all delight! Deep in Eugénie's heart there stirred the pang of her own pitiful motherhood, of the child who had just flickered into life, and out of it, through one summer's day.

She shyly put her arm round the girl.

'May I,' she said, timidly—'may I kiss you?'

Carrie, with down-dropped eyes, a little grave, submitted.

'I am going to tell my mother. Father sent you, didn't he?'

Eugénie said 'Yes' gently, and released her. The child ran off.

Phoebe came slowly into the room, with an uncertain gait, touching the door and the walls like one groping her way.