"I HAVE WANTED MY OLD SWEETHEART."
"Our doubts and our fears we are leaving;
Before us the future uprears,
Where angels a rainbow are weaving
Of smiles and of tears."
Helen Marion Burnside.
During Waveney's indisposition Everard Ward had been constantly at the Red House, and these visits had been full of consolation to both father and daughter. Althea's kindly welcome and womanly gentleness had, from the first, put him at his ease. Both she and Doreen had cordially pressed him to repeat his visits, as they gave Waveney so much pleasure. Once, when the sisters were out, and Waveney was making tea for him in the library, she asked him suddenly why Mr. Ingram never called at the Red House.
"I do not think it is quite kind and cousinly," she said, rather seriously.
Everard seemed a little embarrassed by the question.
"Why, you see," he replied, in rather a hesitating way, "Ingram is so fully engaged. He is up at our place regularly every morning and evening. He does not seem able to exist away from it. Mollie ought to consider herself a lucky little girl," he continued, thoughtfully, "for I never saw a man more deeply in love. He is a fine fellow—Ingram—the best-hearted fellow I know; and I only hope"—and here he looked at Waveney rather searchingly—"that our dear Mollie values him as he deserves."
"I think Mollie is beginning to care for him," returned Waveney; "at least, I fancy so. But, of course, one can only guess at her feelings. You see, he has given her so much pleasure. And she has learnt to depend on him so much for companionship and sympathy, that it would be strange if she were to harden her heart against him, at last. But, father,"—her voice deepening with emotion,—"do you think he is quite good enough for our sweet Mollie? He is very kind and amusing—our dear little Monsieur Blackie, but——" Everard interrupted her abruptly.
"Pshaw, what a ridiculous name! I think it is quite time that you and Noel dropped it. Monsieur Blackie, indeed! Absurd! I cannot imagine why you have all taken such a liberty with him." Everard spoke in such a ruffled tone that Waveney stared at him in surprise.
"But, father, dear, he likes it. He is as proud of the name as possible. In his little notes to us he always signs himself 'Monsieur Blackie.'" And then she added, rather wickedly, "You know, dear, the name does suit him so perfectly. If he were tall, and handsome, and dignified, we should have found him quite a different name."