“My darling, what nonsense!” exclaimed her mother. “What we should do without you I cannot even think. But I am not inconsistent. What I mean is that I can see your father sometimes of late has begun to fear the Fawcetts may not like the long delay. Frederica said something of the kind before him one day.”
“She didn’t mean it. She often speaks at random. In reality, she is very well pleased to defer the day when her son shall be hers no longer,” said Cicely lightly.
Just then the hall clock struck.
“Geneviève’s letter, mamma,” exclaimed Miss Methvyn. “She is in the library.”
“I will go at once,” said her mother, rising as she spoke. “Poor Geneviève how she must feel leaving her home. I hope she will be happy with us, Cicely. She seems so sweet and gentle, and is so very pretty.”
“Yes, she is lovely, very lovely,” said Cicely thoughtfully, “and I hope she will be happy here. Mamma,” with a change of tone, “you will have to ask Mr. Guildford to stay to dinner.”
Mrs. Methvyn hurried away to write the letter she wished Geneviève to enclose. But it was too late. She was obliged to defer it till the next day, and there was only time for Geneviève to add a word to this effect before the post-bag had to be closed.
[CHAPTER V.]
“COME INTO THE GARDEN, MAUD.”
“Where lies the land to which the ship would go?
Far, far ahead, is all her seamen know;
And where the land she travels from?
Away, Far, far behind, is all that they can say,”