What could I do but laugh at this absurd speech?
"You dear, foolish child," I said, "you must have made up your mind to drive me from High Lea. If you wish to keep me for a little while, never allude again to my remaining beyond the holidays; and, above all, never couple my name with that of Mr. Lawrence, or any other gentleman. It would grieve me sadly; and, more than that, I should run away of my own accord."
"I would not grieve you for the world," said the child, covering my face with kisses. Mary Baxendell was now fifteen, and a very child in frankness and innocence, though in some respects older than her age.
I said to her now, "A year ago, when it pleased God that I should be left fatherless, I prayed to Him to direct me, and I did not ask in vain. I have had a great deal of happiness during the year, and I have more friends than I possessed twelve months ago, as well as more money in my pocket. I came to Hillstowe with just half-a-crown left. When I said good-bye to the Barrs I had six months' salary to begin the world with again. I am comparatively rich. If I could leave myself in God's hands immediately after my father's death, surely I may trust Him after an enlarged experience of His faithfulness."
"Dear Miss Anstey, I know you are right," said Mary. "But you need never want for money, you know, because my father would give me anything I might ask in that way, though he will not have a resident governess for me. And, I had nearly forgotten, my cousin Lawrence and my aunt are expected before dinner-time."
This announcement concerned me little, and I went leisurely on with my arrangements, only determining that I would not go to the drawing-room until just before the gong was sounded for dinner.
[CHAPTER VI.]
A FEW minutes before dinner-time, Mary Baxendell came for me, and we went down together. In the drawing-room were her father and mother, and an extremely handsome, stately-looking lady, in black velvet, and wearing some fine diamonds. I could not help noticing that her hair was whiter than her face would have led me to expect, for her complexion was fair, and the colour on her cheeks might have been envied by any girl. She looked still more remarkable from the fact that her eyes, eyelashes, and eyebrows were very dark.
"Aunt," said Mary Baxendell, drawing me towards this lady, and doubtless considering that she had special vested rights in her governess, "this is Miss Anstey."
A tall young man, who was looking out at a window, and whose back was towards us as we entered, started as Mary mentioned my name. Almost before the aunt and I had exchanged salutations, Mary cried, "Cousin Lawrence, let me see your face, please."