"And you never came to meet me?" said Mr. Kingston, with tender reproach, as he led her by one reluctant hand to a sofa that was wheeled up comfortably to the fireside. "And I was straining my eyes all across the paddock, to see you on the verandah looking out."
"I was looking out," said Rachel; "I saw the buggy before it reached the woolshed. But——"
"But you thought it would be nicer to have our meeting here, with no one to look on? So it is, darling; you were quite right. I could not have helped kissing you, if all the servants on the place had been standing round; and one doesn't like to make a public exhibition of one's self. Oh, my pet, I am so glad to get you again! And how are you? Let me have a good look at you. Oh, if you are going to blush, how am I to tell whether you are looking well or not?"
"I am not going to blush," said Rachel; "and I am quite well. I never was better. The country air is doing me ever so much good."
"I am not so sure of that," rejoined Mr. Kingston, rather gravely, stroking her soft cheek. "You look fagged, as if you had been knocking about too much. I didn't like your going to those rubbishy little races—I told Thornley so. Have you been sitting up late at night?"
"No—I have been doing nothing," pleaded Rachel; "I am really as well as possible. How is the house getting on?"
"The house is not doing much at present. They are still pottering at the foundations, which seem to take a frightful lot of doing to. Not that they have had time to make much progress since you were there—it is not much over a fortnight yet, you know. Oh, but it has been a long fortnight! Rachel, now I have got you, I don't mean to lose sight of you again."
"How did you leave Beatrice?" inquired Rachel, hastily.
"Beatrice is quite well—as sprightly as ever. I told her I meant to bring you back to town, by force of arms if necessary, and she said I was quite right. We can't do without you in Melbourne—I can't, anyhow; and what's more, I don't mean to try."
"How is Uncle Hardy?"