“Oh,” cried Evereld, clinging with girlish devotion to her hostess. “I do so hope my love for Ralph will not make me grow narrow. I want to care for other people and for outside things just as you do.” “You must manage much better than I did, dear,” said Mrs. Hereford, “perhaps after my own mistakes I may be able to help you.” CHAPTER XXIII “He spoke of beauty: that the dull Saw no divinity in grass, Life in dead stones, or spirit in air; Then looking as ’twere in a glass He smooth’d his chin and sleek’d his hair And said the earth was beautiful.” Tennyson. |The last week at Southbourne proved a very happy one and Evereld went back to London feeling as though a veil had been lifted from before her eyes. It was not only that love had revealed his face to her; but for the first time since her childish days in India she had known what life could mean in a thoroughly happy family. The Mactavishs had never encouraged her in making friends. For reasons of his own Sir Matthew had never allowed her to become really intimate with any one in town, though she had had the usual round of children’s parties and had occasionally been allowed to give a children’s dance in the house in Queen Anne’s Gate. At school, however, close friendships had naturally been made, and the permission to stay with Bride O’Ryan at Southbourne had been extorted from Sir Matthew rather reluctantly, and chiefly because it happened to be a little inconvenient to Lady Mactavish to have the charge of Evereld until they left for Switzerland. It so happened that the whole course of the girl’s life was affected by the mere fact that Lady Mactavish and her elder daughter had accepted an invitation to stay with friends in the country, and that Minnie had been busy with her trousseau, and, having a particular friend of her own staying with her, quite declined to be troubled with the society of a little girl fresh from school. Sir Matthew not caring to vex his daughter when he was so soon to lose her, answered Mrs. Hereford’s second request graciously, little guessing that in so doing he was signing the death-warrant of his selfish hopes and schemes. He beamed approvingly on Evereld when she appeared in the drawing-room on the evening of her return. “Come, that is a refreshing sight for a jaded city man,” he said, stroking her rosy cheek caressingly. “Never mind, Evereld, we are all going holiday-making now, and will forget all cares and troubles. Have you seen our route, my dear?” “No,” said Evereld, “I’m longing to see it.”