When Alice came in, Flora’s respectable attendant condescended to withdraw with her, and we were left alone. Flora had thrown down her bonnet and shawl upon the haircloth sofa, where she now hastily placed mine, after disrobing me with her own hands. I took my low nursing-chair, for I had now regained Baby, but Flora was standing before the window in her wide floating, pretty muslin gown, so summerlike and girl-like; she was not disposed even to stand still, much less to sit down for a reasonable conference, and all this while was running on with her pleasant voice and happy words, as light of heart as ever.
“Oh, cousin Hester, how beautiful it is,” she cried; “how did you find out such a lovely quiet place? and such ships? I have heard the boys speak of ships, but I thought there was always something nasty and noisy about where they are. I could look at these all day—how they float! what beautiful round sails—is that the wind in them that fills them out so?—and how they seem to enjoy it, cousin Hester!”
“How did you find me out, Flora?” I asked.
Flora hesitated for a moment, and then suddenly came and knelt down beside me. “Dear cousin Hester, Mr. Southcote came and told Mamma all about it. You will not be angry, cousin? Mamma thought it was not right of you, and Mr. Southcote came and explained it to her, and said it was he that had been wrong, and that you had a right to be angry with him. Then he let us know when Baby was born—oh, what a sweet rogue he is, cousin Hester!—do you think there ever was such a pretty baby? and then we had to come to London—about—about—some business, and I teased Mamma till she let me come to see you. I did so want to see you, and I had something to tell you too.”
“What had you to tell me, Flora?” I asked, stiffening into pride again. This of course was some message from my husband, and I could not explain why I felt aggrieved that he should choose her for his messenger.
Flora looked up wistfully into my face—“Have I said anything wrong—are you angry, cousin?”
“No, no; why should I be angry?” I answered, almost with impatience. “Tell me what message you have.”
“Message! It is no message,” said Flora, her whole pretty face waking into blushes and dimples; “it was all about myself, cousin Hester—I am so selfish; it was something that happened to me.”
I saw how it was at once, and was relieved. “Well, tell me what has happened, Flora,” I said.
But Flora buried her pretty face and her fair curls in Baby’s long robes, and laughed a little tremulous laugh, and made me no answer.