Miss Bagshot was there, talking of her attachment to her sweet young
friend, and her regret at losing her. Mr. Darrell cut these
lamentations short when he found I was ready, and we drove off to
the station in the fly that had brought him to Albury Lodge.


I looked at the little station to-day with a very different feeling
from that dull despondency which had possessed me six months before,
when I arrived there in the bleak January weather. The thought of
five weeks' respite from the monotonous routine of Albury Lodge was
almost perfect happiness. I did not forget those I loved at home, or
cease to regret the poverty that prevented my going home for the
holidays; but since this was impossible, nothing could have been
pleasanter than the idea of the visit I was going to pay.

Throughout the journey Mr. Darrell was all that was gracious and
kind. He talked a good deal of his wife; dwelling much upon her
accomplishments and amiability, and assuring his daughter again and
again that she could not fail to love her.

'I was a little bit of a coward in the business, I confess, Milly,'
he said, in the midst of this talk, 'and hadn't courage to tell you
anything till the deed was done; and then I thought it was as well
to let Julian make the announcement.'

'You ought to have trusted me better, papa,' Milly said tenderly;
and I knew what perfect self-abnegation there was in the happy smile
with which she gave him her hand.

'And you are not angry with me, my darling?' he asked.