CHAPTER XLVI.

THE HEIR.

Miss Gwynne returned to Glanyravon on Christmas Eve.  She had not visited it before, since she left it when her father married.  She had seen her father, his wife, and her little brother almost yearly in London, whither Lady Mary Nugent insisted on dragging her husband annually; but she had not hitherto had love, or courage, or Christian charity enough to visit them at home.  When last in town, and repeatedly by letter, her father had urged her doing so, and she had at last complied with his request, more from a latent sense of duty than from inclination.

It was a bright, frosty night, when the carriage that had been sent to meet her drove up to the door.  If poor Netta had fainted on returning to the farm, Freda was obliged to brush away gathering tears as she returned to the Park.  Every branch of tree, as it glittered in the moonlight in its dress of hoar frost, was familiar to her, every pane of glass in the windows of the old place seemed a friend.

On the lowest step, bare-headed and expectant, were the old butler and footman she had left when she went away; she shook hands with each, and they almost rung her hand off.  In the door-way stood her father, not bare-headed, but expectant, who received her with paternal warmth.  Freda knew that he must for once have forgotten himself and his nervous debility to have thus exposed himself to the frosty air.  In the hall was Lady Mary ready with smiles and embraces, with which Freda would gladly have dispensed; but she did her best to seem, if she could not feel, glad to see her.

Her ladyship preceded her to her own old bedroom, where a huge fire, and bright wax candles bade her welcome, and whither she was followed by Frisk, who was exuberant in his demonstrations of delight at his return home after his long absence.

‘I have ordered my maid to wait on you my dear,’ said Freda’s stepmother, ’because I find your’s does not return to you.  But we can replace her.  Dinner will be ready whenever you are; can I do anything for you?’

‘No, thank you, I shall not be long,’ said Freda mechanically.

Lady Mary left the room.

Freda felt that her tact was good after all; for no nice feeling could have been more successful than it was.  She had received her just as if she had come home after a short absence.  No demonstrations of any kind; her room was much as it had ever been.  There were even some of her clothes in the wardrobe.

‘I won’t cry!  I won’t give way!’ muttered Freda, beginning to take off her wrappings.

There was a tap at the door.

‘Come in!’ And Anne the old housemaid appeared.

’Oh, miss, I am so glad to see you home again, it do seem so natural.  Please to let me unpack your things, miss.  My lady thought you might like me better than Mrs Pink.’

‘Thank you, Anne, it does look like home to see you.’