The school was in connection with a similar one in Normandy, and the pupils had the advantage of being transferred, at a certain stage of their progress, and at little additional expense, to the French establishment. The superintendent was a sensible woman, and so White told her the whole story.
It was presently decided that it would be for Madeline’s advantage to go to France for a year, without seeing anything of White or any of her new friends. She was still only a very rough diamond, and needed very considerable polishing to make her approach perfection. A long period spent in pleasant discipline, and with only the most refined surroundings, was absolutely essential to her moral development. So at least thought the lady superintendent; and White agreed.
On receiving the information that she was to be again transplanted, Madeline was in high grief and dudgeon, for she had been thoroughly happy with the De Bernys, and desired no better than to become again a kind of Cinderella to the fair Mathilde.
During her residence at Merton Marmaduke White has been fairly well satisfied with his ward. Beyond complaints of certain erratic habits, and of her general disposition to act from passionate impulse, he had heard little to her detriment, much to her credit.
He had seen her from time to time, and she had spent many of her holidays at Willowtree Road.
From the tone of her letters, and from her words when they met, he gathered that she was happy. She had gained the wish of her heart; had learnt ‘French and music,’ as well as the other elegances which constitute a good education.
So Madeline was sent to Normandy, with a contingent of young girls from the school at Merton.
One day, when nearly eighteen months had elapsed since their last meeting, White received a photograph from France. It represented a fair maiden, with great wistful eyes, and a face of singular beauty.
At first he scarcely knew it; then he turned it over, and read in a bold handwriting:—
Madeline Hasleere, taken at Rouen on her 17th birthday.