One morning, however, Norah received a letter which scattered dismay amongst the family at Mere Side.
She could not bear to tell the contents, but passed it for her aunt to read aloud, and Miss Pease began, "My dearest Eleanor."
"I thought your name was just Norah," said Molly. "I am always called so, because—"
Someone entered at the moment, and stopped the girl from telling why her name had been thus abridged, and Miss Pease continued—
"I am really grieved that after all I cannot at present join you at Mere Side, and have the pleasure of personally thanking Mr. Whitmore and his sisters for all their kindness and of making their acquaintance. I must hope for this at some future time."
"You, dear Eleanor, must come to me with as little delay as possible. I should like you to meet me on Thursday, and on Saturday I purpose going on to Paris, where your aunt and cousins now are. A family matter requires that we should meet. Indeed, she wants my help, and, after all her goodness to you, it would ill become me to hesitate, if I can be of use to her. Nelly and Beatrice are in a state of wild delight at the prospect of seeing you."
"Your aunt's maid, Carter, has been visiting her old mother in Lincolnshire, and I have arranged that she shall bring you from Mere Side, or rather from Salchester, where she will meet with you, travel to town with you, and cross with us to the Continent. This plan will prevent your causing any inconvenience to your aunt."
There were further messages of thanks, regards, and regrets, and then the letter ended, amid a chorus of groans from the listeners.
Norah's face had grown pale, and Richard's had on it an expression of pain that was unmistakable.
He had waited, like the honourable man he was, for the coming of Colonel Pease before speaking to Norah. He thought it would not be right to declare his affection for the daughter until the father had seen him, and had an opportunity of judging of his character.