As soon as they had got into the statue, Mr. Earnscliffe drew Flora aside, and said, "Do not tell her of our engagement. I will give you my reasons for not wishing it to be told to her, at another time."
"It is enough to know your wishes in order to follow them, Edwin; you can tell me the reason when you like, or not at all, if you choose. But I must caution mamma and Marie."
He pressed her hand as she turned away from him and went to her mother. Shortly afterwards, Mr. and Mrs. Caulfield came down again, and they all set out to walk home, Mr. Caulfield having first discharged their carriage.
Helena and Flora walked together, as prearranged, and the latter thought the best way to keep from admitting her engagement was to begin by telling as much as she chose, and so prevent too much questioning; therefore, she said at once, "When you talked of my gratifying your curiosity, Helena, I suppose you meant to allude to Mr. Earnscliffe's being with us, but, alas! for your gratification, there is very little to tell. We met him by chance in Venice."
"Chance, Flora?" interrupted Helena.
"Yes, quite so; we did not even know that he was in Venice. We happened then to speak of crossing the Tyrol. Mamma said we were going in the diligence,—as we were three unprotected females she did not like to take a carriage and trust altogether to the driver of it,—when Mr. Earnscliffe good-naturedly offered to escort us over the pass. That is all I have to tell you."
"Come, Flora, you are not so verdant as to imagine that a Grand Mogul like Mr. Earnscliffe, who, as a general rule, dislikes ladies, would offer to dance attendance upon three of them out of mere good nature; it is quite evident that he would never have done so unless one of the three had pinioned him with Cupid's fiery darts. Admit, Flora, that he is in love with you."
"Well, Helena, your reasoning is worthy of a woman, for it is utterly guiltless of all logic. Because a gentleman offers to see us across a mountain pass, you jump to the conclusion that he must be in love with me. If even it were—which, of course, it is not—a necessary consequence of his travelling with us that he should be in love with one of the party, why, in the name of all that's wonderful, fix upon me? Marie is much prettier. Why, then, not upon her?"
"Prettier—yes; but you might as well talk of his being in love with me as with her. Why, he considers us merely good, gay little fools, that is, if he could for a moment bring down his great mind to think about us at all. Of course, you are the 'favourite;' and if he does not propose it will be very dishonourable."