“Here she is—here is our Bessie!” exclaimed a voice, and a fine-looking young fellow in an ulster ran lightly down the platform as Bessie waved her handkerchief. He was followed more leisurely by a handsome, gray-haired man with a quiet, refined-looking face.
“Tom—oh, Tom!” exclaimed Bessie, almost jumping into his arms, as he opened the carriage door. “Were mother and Hattie very frightened? Why, there is father!” as Dr. Lambert hurried up.
“My dear child, how thankful I am to see you! Why, she looks quite fresh, Tom.”
“As fit as possible,” echoed Tom.
“Yes, I am only cold. Father, the guard put me in with a young lady. She was going to London, but it is too late for her to travel alone, and she is afraid of going to a hotel. May I bring her home? Her name is Edna Sefton. She lives at The Grange, Oatlands.”
Dr. Lambert seemed somewhat taken aback by his daughter’s speech.
“Edna Sefton! Why, that is Eleanor Sefton’s daughter! What a strange coincidence!” And then he muttered to himself, “Eleanor Sartoris’ daughter under our roof! I wonder what Dora will say?” And then he turned to the fair, striking-looking girl whom Tom was assisting with all the alacrity that a young man generally shows to a pretty girl: “Miss Sefton, you will be heartily welcome for your mother’s sake; she and I were great friends in the ’auld lang syne.’ Will you come with me? I have a fly waiting for Bessie; my son will look after the luggage;” and Edna obeyed him with the docility of a child.
But she glanced at him curiously once or twice as she walked beside him. “What a gentlemanly, handsome man he was!” she thought. Yes, he looked like a doctor; he had the easy, kindly manner which generally belongs to the profession. She had never thought much about her own father, but to-night, as they drove through the lighted streets, her thoughts, oddly enough, recurred to him. Dr. Lambert was sitting opposite the two girls, but his eyes were fixed oftenest on his daughter.
“Your mother was very anxious and nervous,” he said, “and so was Hatty, when Tom brought us word that the train was snowed up in Sheen Valley I had to scold Hatty, and tell her she was a goose; but mother was nearly as bad; she can’t do without her crutch, eh, Bessie?” with a gleam of tenderness in his eyes, as they rested on his girl.
Edna felt a little lump in her throat, though she hardly knew why; perhaps she was tired and over-strained; she had never missed her father before, but she fought against the feeling of depression.