What I am now going to tell you will seem to some people 'too strange to be true,' but begging these wise people's pardon, I cannot agree with them. Strange things of the kind—coincidences, they are sometimes called—have happened to me myself, too often, for me not to believe that 'there is something in it.' In plain words, I believe that our spirits are sometimes conscious of each other's nearness much sooner than our clumsy bodies are. How very often is one met with the remark, 'Why, we were just speaking of you!' How often does the thought of some distant friend suddenly start into our memories an hour or two before the post brings us a letter penned by the dear far-away fingers!
Something of this kind was what happened now. A young man-servant came out of the house and made his way to where the girls were.
'If you please, miss,' he said, 'a young lady is in the library waiting to see you. My mistress is out. The lady asked for both you and Miss Bridget.'
'Who can it be?' said Rosalys.
'How tiresome!' said Biddy.
But they were accustomed to see visitors that had to be seen when their mother was out, and they went together to the library.
Alie went in first, but she stood perplexed and a little confused as a slight tall figure rose from a chair and came forward to meet her.
'I am afraid,' the stranger began, but before she could say another word, or before Alie had time to do more than think to herself, much more quickly than it takes to tell it, that surely she should know that sweet pale face and bright though gentle eyes, Biddy had darted forward and was throwing her arms round the young girl's neck. 'Don't you know her, Alie?' she cried. 'I do. It's dear little Celestina, grown up, and oh, how nice and pretty and good you look! And we've been speaking of you all this morning. It's Alie's birthday; she's twenty-one, just fancy! And where have you been, and where's your mother, and——'
Her breathlessness gave Rosalys time to come forward and warmly kiss Celestina in her turn. Then they made her sit down; she was looking rather tired, for she had had a long walk in the sun—and by degrees she told them all her news. There was a good deal to tell. The last four years had been spent by her mother and herself in France, not far from Madame d'Ermont, whom Celestina described as having been more than kind.
'She paid for all my schooling and lessons,' the girl said simply, 'so that mother could afford to stay with me all the time. Mother gave some English lessons herself too. And I was able to learn French quite well, which will be such an advantage to me. The last two years I taught English at the school, so the expenses were not so great. And we spent the summer holidays at Madame d'Ermont's château. Oh, she was so kind!'