Mr. Darrell received me most graciously.  He was a tall fine-looking man, very like the photograph in Milly’s bedroom, and I detected the hard look about the mouth which I had noticed in both portraits.  He seemed remarkably fond of his daughter; and I have never seen a prettier picture than she made as she stood beside him, clinging to his arm, and looking lovingly up at him with her dark hazel eyes.

He asked me where I was to spend my holidays; and on hearing that I was to stay at Albury Lodge, asked whether I would like to come to Thornleigh with Milly for the midsummer vacation.  My darling clapped her hands gaily as he made this offer, and cried: 

’O yes, Mary, you will come, won’t you?—­You dear kind papa, that is just like you, always able to guess what one wishes.  There is nothing in the world I should like better than to have Mary at Thornleigh.’

’Then you have only to pack a box with all possible expedition, and to come away with us, Miss Crofton,’ said Mr. Darrell; ’the train starts in an hour and a half.  I can only give you an hour.’

I thanked him as well as I could—­awkwardly enough, I daresay—­for his kindness, and ran away to ask Miss Bagshot’s consent to the visit.  This she gave readily, in spite of some objections suggested by Miss Susan, and I had nothing more to do than to pack my few dresses—­my two coloured muslins, a white dress for festive occasions, a black-silk dress which was preeminently my ‘best,’ and some print morning-dresses—­wondering as I packed them how these things would pass current among the grandeurs of Thornleigh.  All this was finished well within the hour, and I put my bonnet and shawl, and ran down—­ flushed with hurry and excitement, and very happy—­to join my friends in the drawing-room.

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.’