Part 48 (2/2)
”Is that all the news?” asked Caroline.
The child puckered her brow and nodded her head, and then said----
”Oh no. Somethin' else. Mummy sent us each a watch; a real living watch, Caroline; and she's gone to some mountains, and she's very well, and she's got a new name, and it isn't Rupert's and she wants us to say our prayers for her every night.”
The little voice on Caroline's right began to murmur these devotional offices, but she stopped sharply halfway, because Betty exclaimed----
”Rupert's going to send my pony down here, and a donkey for Baby. Do you want your letters?” suddenly asked Betty. ”There's a 'eap waiting.”
The heap turned out to be two. One with a foreign postmark, and one with the address of a London club stamped on the envelope.
”I know who that's from,” said Betty, with a laugh, ”that's Sammy. Oh, he's been down here, too! And what do you think? Baby asked him for a s.h.i.+lling!”
A voice from the staircase called both children to attention.
They slid off the bed like two culprits.
”Please ask Dennis if she will come to me,” Caroline said, and Betty paused to shrug her shoulders.
”Can't! Dennis is went to mummy.” Then she said--”When did she go, Baby? I don't remember 'xactly.”
”I think it was the day after this day,” said Baby, after some reflection.
”Well, please,” said Caroline, ”I should like my clothes.”
The moment she was alone she sat forward, and with trembling fingers tore open Broxbourne's letter, the other she slipped under her pillow; she was not strong enough to read what Camilla had written just yet.
Sir Samuel was not skilful with his pen; his letter was brief.
”Dear Miss Graniger,
”I ran down as I said I should, and was awfully sorry to hear you were knocked over. I'll be down again soon, but I thought I would scribble you a word to say I shall keep my promise till I see you again.”
Caroline's hand closed over the letter, and she lay back and let the nervous beat steady down in her heart and pulses.
The blind still flapped to and fro, but the golden streak had moved. A blackbird was piping in the clear air; she could hear the children's voices from the garden. The room had the same tranquil air as before, but the soft reposeful element had pa.s.sed away; Caroline's eyes were closed, but she neither slept nor dreamed.
Remembrance was with her again, and with remembrance, heartache, yearning, and regret.
CHAPTER XVI
In June, when the gardens at Yelverton were glorious with roses (and Caroline's one task seemed to be hunting the children out of the strawberry-beds), Cuthbert Baynhurst and his wife returned to town.
They did not do this voluntarily; it was literally to see his mother die that Cuthbert was summoned back to England.
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