"Sit down here," said Miss Vane, as they reached a rustic seat beneath a great copper-beech-tree on the farther side of the lawn. "Here we can see the house and be seen from it; if they want me, they will know where to find me. I am not speaking at random, Hubert; there is a thing that I want to say to you about your sister Florence."
Hubert seated himself at her side with a thrill of positive fear. Had she some accusation to bring against his sister? He was miserably conscious that he was quite unprepared to defend her against any accusation whatsoever.
"What I mean first of all to say," Miss Vane proceeded, looking straight before her at the house, "is that Florence is a girl of an unusual character. She looks very mild and meek, but she is not mild and meek at all. Most girls are, on the whole, affectionate and well-principled and timid; Flossy is not one of the three."
"You are surely hard on her!"
"No, I am not. Long ago I made up my mind that she wanted to get married; that is nothing—every girl of her disposition wants more or less to be married. But I came across a piece of information the other day which made me feel almost glad that poor Sydney's life ended as it did. There was danger ahead."
"It is all done with now," said Hubert hurriedly; "why should you rake up the past? Cannot it be left alone?"
He was sitting with his elbows on his knees, his chin supported by his hands, a look of settled gloom upon his face. Miss Vane's eyes flashed.
"You know what I mean then?" she said sharply.
Hubert started into an upright position, crossed his arms, and looked her imperturbably in the face.
"I have not the slightest idea of what you are going to say."