IV.
THE PLAY MYSTERY.
Two young women were sitting over their worsted-work in the house numbered 17 Grove Street.
"Twenty-five, twenty-six," said the elder. "Lillie, if I were you, I would always carry one of his books with me in the horse-car, prepared to open and read it whenever he chanced to hang by the straps over me. He would be sure to try to read it upside down, and—"
"Nonsense, Julia! you speak exactly as if I were running after him."
"Not running, my dear, but waiting for him. Confess it; don't you make up stories about this Mr. Buckingham? don't you call him Austin all by yourself?"
"Julia, you are shameless! I have a great mind to roll up my work and go up-stairs."
"Oh, no, Lillie. Stay here; for Henry will surely be back soon, and we shall learn exactly how the lion looked in his den. What a singularly good piece of fortune it was that Henry should have met you both!"
"Julia! you don't suppose that cousin of yours has been telling! You don't suppose he has mentioned me to Mr. Buckingham!"
"It is impossible to say. You get two men talking together, and you may be sure they forget all their promises of secrecy. Now, I shouldn't wonder if Henry were at this very moment—"
"You are simply—"
"Hark! There's Henry now."
For the door opened, and Mr. Wilding entered, the remains of a smile upon his face.
"I really should like to know, Julia," he said, "what you two ladies have been talking about. We could almost hear. We certainly could see."
"We, Henry? Pray, who is we?"
"Why, Mr. Buckingham and I. You have certainly a most hospitable fashion of leaving your shades up. He walked out with me after I had called on him, and he seemed to have a good deal to say after we came to the door. There is an excellent view of the interior from the door; and Miss Vila and you were certainly animated."
"This is really dreadful! Lillie, do you suppose he saw us talk?"
"I don't know. I feel as if he heard every word.—Mr. Wilding, I hope you didn't repeat any of the foolish speeches your cousin made at the tea-table?"
"I was discreetness itself, Miss Vila."
"But why didn't you invite him in, Henry?" asked his cousin.
"Upon my word, this is reasonable! First I am made to promise solemnly that I won't disclose Miss Vila's name, and then I am asked why I didn't bring him in and introduce him. He wanted to come in, I know."
"He wanted to!"
"Yes; he tried to worm out of me who my cousin was, and he walked up here on purpose to find out where you lived."
"How lucky there is no name on the door!" exclaimed the cousin.
"But he heard me ask for your husband's house,—did he not, Miss Vila? And why on earth you should make such a mystery of it all I can't see."
"Do draw the shade, Julia. It makes me nervous. I feel as if he were looking in now."
"Nonsense, Lillie! he's a gentleman."
"But why do you make such a mystery of it all?" persisted the young man.
"There is no mystery," said Miss Vila stiffly. And, gathering up her work, she went up-stairs.
"It's only play mystery, Henry," said his cousin, when they were alone. "You see, Lillie Vila has been coming out in the horse-car with him every night for a long time; and she has seen him watching her. Of course she has seen him, but he has not seen that she has seen him. Men are so stupid. And she knows that he has tried in vain to find out who she is. He saw her once go into the library. She was dreadfully afraid he would come in and see her working behind the screen; but he evidently fancied she went in to get a book. Then he is always managing to stand or sit near her, and he peeks at her book when she is reading. He is just dying, I know, to find out who she is."