Aunt Caroline was down to receive us, for I had sent a telegram from
Dover; upstairs, my dear old woman was sitting up in bed with sweet,
wrinkled smiles beneath her frilled night-cap. I was very glad to be
home again; my heart felt warm.
I sent Aunt Caroline to bed, much against her will, and then Gabriel
and I sat down to drink the tea he had wished for, beside the fire
in the breakfast-room. Gabriel was very white, his eyes shone all
too brightly; again and again I saw him put his hand to his brow, a
trick he had when he was nervous.
"Dear," said I, "don't drink so much tea; it's very bad for you, you
will never sleep tonight."
"No," said he; "I am sure I couldn't sleep anyway. I think I shan't
stay here, Emilia, if you don't mind. I feel very impatient to see
my father; the night is fine, I shall walk over to the Cottage, and
take him by surprise."
I was just looking at him, wondering how to meet this mood, when
there came a light tap at the window, a French window that opened on
to the lawn.
"Hark!" said I.
We listened; again it came, again; and then a little voice calling,
"Emilia! Emilia!"
"It is Constance!" I cried, and, springing to my feet, I flung open
curtain and shutter and window.
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