To Pat it seemed as though everything exciting was happening at once! For the next morning's mail brought a letter from Mother saying that she and Celia would start north in a day or two.
Pat and Renée had wakened very early. The first thought in each mind was to know if it was all true--that Emile had come back--or was it a dream?
Outside of their window a friendly robin was trilling a gay song as though the joy of the spring-time was bursting his proud little throat. Through the window the sun shone with added brightness and warmth and delicious earthy smells greeted the girls.
"Oh, isn't it just grand to be alive? Let's dress fast and be the first ones down!" And Pat, because the sun and the birds and the spring freshness made her very happy, also burst into a gay snatch of song. Aunt Pen and Capt. Allan were late for breakfast. When the others had almost finished they came in from a brisk walk through the park, with red cheeks and amazing appetites.
Aunt Pen, dropping into the chair next to Pat, slipped a roll of paper into her hand and whispered:
"There's something that belongs to you, Patsy! I'm ashamed that I didn't return it before. But now you can write the last verse!"
Pat, immensely curious, peeped at the paper. It was the lost ballad! And what did Aunt Pen mean about the last verse? Both Aunt Pen and Capt. Allan were looking at her with eyes full of laughter. Pat felt her color creeping to her eyebrows and crushed the innocent verses in her hand. But Aunt Pen checked her rising indignation.
"Patsy, dear, I found 'The Secret Sorrow' on the floor of the library one night after we had had a pow-wow. I recognized the heroine--by a guilty conscience, I guess--my hair is not exactly 'of raven hue' or my eyes 'pellucid blue'! But I loved it, my dear, and I tucked it away, for I couldn't bear to have you write the sad ending that was coming! What if you had made her thrust a steel dagger into her breast! Or have had her leap from one of those mighty crags over which the knight, her brother hunted!"
Capt. Allan had been furiously scribbling some words on the back of an envelope. Now he looked up, very seriously.
"Will you forgive Aunt Pen if I write the last verse for you?" he asked, and then, not waiting for an answer, read with dramatic emphasis: