‘Do you know, Mora, as I lay awake last night, my thoughts all at once went back to that day, now so many years ago, when poor mamma lay dying—when she took your hand and placed it on my head, and said in a voice so faint that we could scarcely hear it: “When I am gone, Mora, you must be mother and sister in one to my little Clari.” You were only a girl yourself at the time, but from that day you devoted yourself to me. I lost one mother, only to find another in you!’
‘Your love, darling, has repaid me a hundredfold for everything,’ answered Mora while her fingers touched the young girl’s hair caressingly.
‘Here comes Miss Gaisford,’ cried Clarice, a moment later, as she started to her feet.
‘Why did you stir?’ said the vicar’s sister. ‘You made such a pretty picture as I walked up from the lake, that I should like to have sketched you then and there.’ Then turning to Clarice, ‘Any news yet?’ she asked.
The answer was a doleful shake of the head. ‘I begin to think there never will be any news again.’
‘Oh, but there will. Don’t be in too great a hurry to begin the next chapter of your romance; enjoy the present one while it lasts.’
At this moment, Nanette, Madame De Vigne’s maid, put in an appearance. ‘Tea is served, madame,’ she said.
‘The very thing I was longing for,’ remarked Miss Gaisford.
Clarice followed Nanette into the room.
‘Has Colonel Woodruffe arrived yet?’ asked Miss Gaisford.