Bridget.'

'Who can it be?' said Rosalys.

'How tiresome!' said Biddy.

But they were accustomed to see visitors that had to be seen when their
mother was out, and they went together to the library.

Alie went in first, but she stood perplexed and a little confused as a
slight tall figure rose from a chair and came forward to meet her.

'I am afraid,' the stranger began, but before she could say another
word, or before Alie had time to do more than think to herself, much
more quickly than it takes to tell it, that surely she _should_ know
that sweet pale face and bright though gentle eyes, Biddy had darted
forward and was throwing her arms round the young girl's neck. 'Don't
you know her, Alie?' she cried. '_I_ do. It's dear little Celestina,
grown up, and oh, how nice and pretty and good you look! And we've been
speaking of you all this morning. It's Alie's birthday; she's
twenty-one, just fancy! And where have you been, and where's your
mother, and----'

Her breathlessness gave Rosalys time to come forward and warmly kiss
Celestina in her turn. Then they made her sit down; she was looking
rather tired, for she had had a long walk in the sun--and by degrees she
told them all her news. There was a good deal to tell. The last four
years had been spent by her mother and herself in France, not far from
Madame d'Ermont, whom Celestina described as having been more than kind.