“Geneviève,” she said, “I have just got a note from Mr. Hayle asking me to send some things to those poor people at Notcotts, whose child is so ill. I think I shall go myself; my father does not want me particularly this morning, and I have got a headache, I should like the walk. Will you come part of the way with me? I don’t want you to come all the way, because mother wants one of us to help her in copying out that French catalogue for papa, and you could do it better than I, but you might come a little way with me if you would like.”
“Yes,” said Geneviéve. “I will come. I have nothing to do.”
There was a dull listlessness in her tone which attracted Cicely’s attention.
“Geneviève,” she said, looking at her with some anxiety as she spoke, “you don’t look happy. And at breakfast-time you seemed so bright, I hoped you had quite got over your low spirits. And now you look so dull again! What is it, dear?”
The ever-ready tears filled Geneviève’s eyes. She half turned away, as if to hide them.
“It is nothing,” she said, but with no abruptness in her tone. “I was thinking of many things, standing here alone—voilà tout, I assure you.”
“And is there nothing the matter, truly?” asked Cicely, seemingly but half satisfied.
“Nothing, truly nothing, except that I was feeling a little sad,” repeated Geneviève. But after a moment’s pause, she added, considerably to her cousin’s surprise, “Cicely, do you know I think it would be better for me to go home?”
“To go home!” exclaimed Cicely. “Why, Geneviève, you have not been here many weeks, and you have told me several times lately that you were getting to like being here and to feel happy with us! What has changed you so suddenly?”
“It is not that I am changed,” said Geneviève, the colour deepening in her face, “but—but things are changed. I fear now that I shall be in the way—you will have much to do—all the preparation of—of marriage to make, by what my aunt told me. It is all changed. I had thought to be a friend, a companion to you Cicely, but now you will have your own interests and occupations. I see not that I am wanted. I would rather go home.”