The young clerk thought of burglars, and was at first reluctant, but, on recognising the untimely caller, admitted the great man, and did what in him lay to be obliging. Jenny heard the ring and the little stir in the hall, but took no notice. She was entirely absorbed in wondering why Mrs. Oxenham wanted to throw her at Mr. Churchill's head to-day, after taking such extreme measures to remove her from him yesterday; and why Mr. Churchill, supposed to be engaged to Lady Louisa, should be in "a great way" because he had not found at Wandooyamba the girl of whom he had taken no notice while they were both in town and he was at liberty to interview her at any time. She was lying all along on a sofa, with her arms thrown up and her hands under her head. Her little figure was clad in a white gown—a costume insisted on by Mrs. Oxenham in this midsummer weather. The light from the window beside her touched her chestnut hair and her pure skin and her bright eyes, that were fixed in deep abstraction upon the wall. If she had posed to look her prettiest, she could not have succeeded better.
A heavy step came up the stairs, and she did not stir, for she had no thought of burglars. Not until it slackened and paused at the open door of the drawing-room, threatening an intrusion upon her precious hour of peace, did she turn her head apprehensively. When she saw who it was that stood there, looking at her, she bounded to her feet as if she had been shot.
"Oh—h—h!" she breathed almost inaudibly.
"Miss Liddon, I am so glad to find you at home."
He was as sober as one could desire that a gentleman should be, but probably it was whisky on an empty stomach which made him bold at a time when most men are liable to be daunted; for, seeing her standing there, trembling, cowering, but visibly glowing from head to foot, he made up his mind that then and there would he settle the great question between them. No, not there. As he took his resolution, he remembered how short the evening service is, though it may not seem so to the persons taking part in it, and how horrible it would be to be disturbed in the middle of his proposal by the Rogersons and the parson and half a dozen gossips of the township coming in. So he said to Jenny, holding her hand very firmly, "As you wouldn't come to Wandooyamba, I have been obliged to come to you. I have something of great importance to say to you; and I want to know if you will come out for a little walk on the hills with me? It is not very hot now."
Jenny's colour deepened, and her tremblings increased. She withdrew her hand. "There is no one here," she said.
"But there will be soon. And I have a great deal to tell you—I want to be free to talk. Come out for a walk. Your aunt won't object when she knows it is I who am with you. Go and put your hat on—quick."
She hesitated still. "It is not—not anything the matter? Not anybody ill? Nothing wrong at home?"
"No, no! Make haste and get ready, or they will be back before we can get away."
She ran off to her room, and there stood still for a minute, clenching her hands and drawing long breaths that shook her little frame. Thoughts raced too fast to be followed, but if she could not think she could feel. If she could not understand him she was sure she could trust him; his sister's endorsement of his proceedings was a guarantee of that. She put on her hat, snatched up a pair of gloves, and returned to him speechless.