_Monday afternoon._
At half-past eleven this morning Lady Merrenden came, and the room was all
full of flowers that Robert had sent, bunches and bunches of violets and
gardenias. She kissed me, and held me tight for a moment, and we did not
speak. Then she said, in a voice that trembled a little:
"Robert is so very dear to me--almost my own child--that I want him to be
happy; and you, too, Evangeline--I may call you that, may not I?"