When she had first seen the child of the
friend who in all the world had been most dear to her, she had
promised herself that, for Magdalen's sake, she would take her
home and bring her up as her own daughter; and she had kept
her promise, but she had failed in making her happy. She knew
it now, when she contrasted the Madelon of to-day, going about
with the light in her eyes, and the glad ring in her voice,
with the Madelon of six months ago. She had not been able to
make her happy, and she would leave her without a regret; and
the thought gave Mrs. Treherne a sharper pang than she had
felt for many a day.
And meanwhile this was what Madelon was saying,--
"In another month, Madelon," Graham had said to her, "we shall
be at L----, and you will be looking out on the blue skies that
you have so often longed for."
"Yes," she replied, "and then perhaps I shall be thinking of
the grey ones I have left behind; I shall be sorry to leave
England after all. I will pay your country so much of a
compliment as that, Monsieur Horace, or rather I shall be
sorry to leave some of the English people--Aunt Barbara, I do
not like to think of her alone; she will miss me, she says.
Pages:
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576
577
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585
586
587