"Who will be at the charge of your schooling, you mean? and other things? Certainly I, Rotha, unless your aunt wishes very decidedly that it should be herself."
"She will not wish that," said the girl. "Then, Mr. Digby, when I am done with school—what am I to do? What do you want me to do? Because if I knew, I might work better to get ready for it."
"Well," said Mr. Digby, making some easy strokes with his pencil, every one of which however meant something,—"there is generally something for everybody to do in this world; but we cannot always tell what, till the time comes. The best way is to prepare yourself, as far as possible, for everything."
"But I cannot do that," said Rotha, with the nearest approach to a laugh that she had made since the previous Friday.
"Yes, you can. First, be a good woman; and then, get all the knowledge and all the accomplishments, and all the acquirements, that come in your way. Drawing, certainly, for you have a true love for that. How is it with music? Are you fond of it?"
"I don't know," Rotha said low. "Mr. Digby, can I not—some time—do something for you?"
"Yes," said he, looking up at her with a laughing glance, "you can do all these things for me. I want you to be as good a woman, and as wise a woman, and as accomplished a woman, as you are able to become."
"Then I will," said Rotha very quietly.
The carriage came. Rotha covered up her old dress as well as she could under her silk mantle, very ill satisfied with the joint effect, She behaved very well, however; was perfectly quiet during the drive, and only once asked,
"Mr. Digby, you said I might write to you?"