"No; I shall never marry Mr. Lepel."
"Is it a secret, miss?" said Parker.
"Until Mr. Evandale comes back from Yorkshire—that is all. After that we will have no more concealments of any kind. I think," said Enid softly but seriously—"I think that perfect truth is the most beautiful thing in the whole world."
CHAPTER XLIV.
Miss Vane's welcome of her niece was dashed by amazement.
"Why, good gracious, child," she said, "what have you come at this hour of the day for? I'm delighted to see you; but I never heard of such a thing! Arriving at nine o'clock in the morning from Beechfield, especially after all the accounts I have heard of your health! You look fit to faint as it is!"
"I am tired," said Enid, with a little smile.
She sat down in Miss Vane's pretty dining-room, where her aunt was seated at breakfast, and began to take off her gloves. Parker had retired into the lower regions of the house, and the two ladies were alone.
"I won't hear anything until you have had some coffee," said Miss Vane, in her quick decisive way. "Get a little color into those pale cheeks, my dear, before you begin to talk! There—drink your coffee! Not a bad plan, after all, to start before the heat of the day comes on, only it is a wonderfully energetic proceeding! Have you come to shop, or are you anxious about Hubert? I went to his rooms the other day and saw him. He is weak; but he is quite sensible now, you know."