The scene is full of gaiety and life, and it is with difficulty that the
young governess drags the children away. But now fresh delights begin:
they are in the narrow streets where all the Moorish shops with their
tempting array of goods attract the childish eye--sweets of all sorts,
cocoanut, egg sweets, almond sweets, pine-nut sweets, and the lovely
pink and golden "Turkish delight," dear to every child's heart.
"Oh, Nory!" in pleading tones, and "Nory" knows that piteous appeal
well, and is weak-minded enough to buy some of the transparent
amber-like substance, which is at all events very wholesome. The sun was
so powerful that it was quite pleasant on their return to sit in the
little terraced garden and take their lunch before lesson-time, and
while their governess sipped her tea, the children drank their goat's
milk, and ate bread and quince jelly.
The warm February sun shone down on her, but she heeded it not; a
passage in Mrs. Somerset's letter, which had just been handed to her,
haunted her, and she read again and again: she could get no farther. "I
believe it is very likely we shall take the next ship that touches here,
it is the _Minerva_ from Tasmania. They say it is a hospital ship, but I
cannot wait for another, I hunger so for a sight of the children."
The young governess was none other than Norah Wylie. She had never
ceased following her husband's movements with the greatest, most painful
interest.
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