Then there rose before her that future for herself, and she could see in the new life, in the new world, that which her father had prophesied. All the old troubles would be left behind on the old battle-ground; she would make up her mind to that, and thus life would be different with her, and happiness for her, perhaps, follow in due course. She had no idea of being unhappy all her life, because she had discovered that Sidney Hinchford's heart had been true to its first love; on the contrary, she was certain now that she should get over all her romantic difficulties in a very little time. At the bottom of all this was the woman's pride to be above all petty sorrowing for those who had never really loved her,--as she deserved to be loved,--and that would keep her strong, she knew. Afar, then, she saw herself happy enough in the new world--with the familiar faces of her father and Ann Packet to remind her of the old. New friends, new pursuits, new incentives to do good, and defeat evil at every turn of her life--her young life still--with scope for energy and a fair time given her, not entirely alone, and never unloved, there would be nothing to disturb, and much to gladden, the future progress of the stray. When her father returned in the evening, he found her very anxious to learn the result of his second journey to London. "Were you in time?" she asked. "Yes. It's all settled, my dear." "I am very glad of that," she murmured; "there is no uncertainty about our next step." "No--we must see Sidney now, dissolve partnership, and put the shutters up, Mattie." "We must write to him in a day or two about the partnership--I would prefer that they know nothing of our intentions until the last instant--until we are ready to go--perhaps until we _are_ gone. I don't think I could stand up against all their good-byes and best wishes--I would rather go away quietly, with you and Ann." "Ann!" "We must not forget her." "She'll never go to the Cape, my dear--she can't go to Finsbury to bank her wages without hysterics, now." "Because she's nervous, and I don't go with her," said Mattie. "Ah! I see--you're right, my child. Ann Packet will have no fear about accompanying _us_. And she'll make a much handier servant than a Zulu Kaffir." "And we'll go away quietly," said Mattie again. "Yes my dear, if you wish it. I object to anything in the dark, but as it's for your sake--I promise." "Thank you," whispered Mattie. Whilst Mattie was writing a letter to Harriet Wesden, as she had promised Maurice Hinchford--Mr. Gray broke the news to Ann Packet, and impressed secrecy upon her. Ann Packet was asked to state her wishes, and Mattie looked up from her desk and smiled at the old faithful servant.