As my guardian, he could not have done less, nor was it necessary that he should do more; still I often wished it would occur to him to come and see me oftener, and give me an opportunity of showing him how much I had improved, and how different I had become.  I had the greatest respect for his opinion; and he had grown, unconsciously to myself, to be a sort of oracle with me, and a sort of hero, too.

I was apt to compare other men with him, and they fell very far short of his measure in my eyes.  That may have been because I saw him much too seldom, and the other men much too often.

CHAPTER XXV.

BIEN PERDU, BIEN CONNU.

Keep, therefore, a true woman’s eye,
And love me still, but know not why;
So hast thou the same reason still
To doat upon me ever!

“It’s very nice to be at home again,” I said to Mrs. Throckmorton, as I broke a great lump of coal in pieces, and watched the flames with pleasure.

“Yes,” said Mrs. Throckmorton, putting another piece of sugar in her coffee, for she was still at the table.  “That is, if you call this home; I must confess it doesn’t feel so to me altogether.”

“Well, it’s our own dear, noisy, raging, racketing, bustling old city, if it isn’t our own house, and I’m sure we’re very comfortable.”

“Very,” said Mrs. Throckmorton, who was always pleased.

“Every time I hear the tinkle of a car-bell, or the roar of an omnibus, I feel a thrill of pleasure,” I said; “I never was so glad to get anywhere before.”

“That’s something new, isn’t it?” said Mrs. Throckmorton, briefly.

“I don’t know; I think I am always glad to get back home.”

“And very glad to go away again too, my dear.”

“I don’t think I shall travel any more,” I returned.  “The fact is, I am getting too old to care about it, I believe.”

Mrs. Throckmorton laughed, being considerably over forty, and still as fond of going about as ever.

We were only de retour two days.  We had started eighteen months ago, for at least three years in Europe, and I had found myself unaccountably tired of it at the end of a year and a half; and here we were.

Our house was rented, but that I had not allowed to be any obstacle, though Mrs. Throckmorton, who was very well satisfied with the easy life abroad, had tried to make it so.  I had secured apartments which were very pretty and complete.  We had found them in order, and we had come there from the steamer.  I was eminently happy at being where I wanted to be.

“How odd it seems to be in town and have nobody know it,” I said, thinking, with a little quiet satisfaction, how pleased several people I could name would be, if they only knew we were so near them.

“Nobody but Mr. Vandermarck, I suppose,” said Mrs. Throckmorton.

“Not even he,” I answered, “for he can’t have got my letter yet; it was only mailed the day we started.  It was only a chance, you know, our getting those staterooms, and we were in such a hurry.  I was so much obliged to that dear, old German gentleman for dying.  We shouldn’t have been here if he hadn’t.”