There was a great heart in her too, but it had not yet been tried and proved. Hitherto she had moved in a sheltered world; of evil, and the unending struggle and strife of men and women outside, she had only a faint conception; the din of life had never clashed upon her ears.
Her father, on the death of her mother, had brought her over from Canada to Mrs. Eversleigh, begging the wife of his old friend to take care of her for him. And Mrs. Eversleigh, a gracious woman, had gladly assented to his request. Kitty thus became a member of the family, and was educated along with Helen both in England and on the continent. The girls were like sisters. Kitty was deeply attached to Mrs. Eversleigh, and, in a less degree, to Francis Eversleigh. She was very happy with the Eversleighs.
"Have they told you the good news, Gilbert?" asked Kitty, a note of rejoicing in her voice.
"Not yet," interposed Helen Eversleigh; "there hasn't been time."
"Tell me," said Gilbert, with a smile. "What is it?"
"I got a letter from my father this morning, and he says that he is returning to England very soon," said Kitty, gleefully.
"That is indeed good news for you," Gilbert agreed. "I thought you looked very much pleased about something," he added.
"Pleased! I should say I am!"
"And when is he coming?" asked Gilbert.
"He says he will be here very soon," answered Kitty—"in a few days after his letter. He does not say quite when, but he writes, 'I will pop in and surprise you some day in the week next after that in which you receive this.' The very uncertainty as to the date," remarked the girl, brightly, "gives a keener edge to one's pleasure."