“And I hope your faith will be rewarded,” Harriet answered, “especially where I am concerned.”
She bent to kiss Caroline and then the Vicar’s voice boomed up the stairs, making them both jump.
“Harriet - where is my candle? How often have I to tell you that I want my candle left at the foot of the stairs? Come down and find it for me this instant, you cork-brained idiot.”
“I’m, sorry, Papa I’m coming, – I am indeed – sorry,” Harriet cried, and rushed from Caroline’s roam, shutting the door behind her.
Poor little Harriet! The sweetness in her face and in her eyes reminded Caroline of the wistful expression of the spaniels at home at Mandrake. She curled down in the bed, wishing for the moment that she was safe at home with the sound of the waves in her ears and the gentle peace and sec
