“Oh, dear Mrs. Southcote! do you think so? I should be so proud.”
“I thought we were to call each other by our Christian names?” said I; “but you must wait for me till I get my bonnet.”
“Let me fetch it—is not that your room?” said Flora, following; “oh! who is that with such a kind face? Is that your maid, Mrs.—cousin?”
“Come and you shall see her, Miss—cousin,” said I, unable to arrest the happy and playful fascination of this girl; “she is my maid and my nurse, and my dearest friend, too, Flora—my very dearest friend—Alice, this is Miss Ennerdale, my cousin.”
Alice started to her feet very hurriedly, made a confused curtsey, and looked at the young girl. It was too much for the self-control of Alice. I believe she had become nervous and unsettled, like the rest of us; and now she turned suddenly away, her lips quivered, her eyes filled. Flora gazed at her shyly, and kept apart, knowing nothing of the cause of her emotion.
“Is she very like, Alice?” said I, in an under tone.
“Very like, dear! God bless her! it’s like herself again. Miss Hester, is her name Helen?” asked Alice with a sob.
“No.”
The glance of disappointment on Alice’s face was only momentary.
“It ought not to have been, either; I’m glad it is not, dear—ah, Miss Hester! if she had but been your sister!”