But it was too late. Hodges always obeyed his mistress to the letter; and his mistress, thinking she would be alone, had ordered "the parson" to be shown into the dining-room. The presence of a visitor made no difference in Hodges' opinion. Accordingly, in spite of Miss Vane's signs and protests, he flung the door wide open, and announced, in a stentorian voice, the parson's name—
"Mr. Evandale."
Then Miss Vane—and Hodges too, before he closed the door—beheld a curious sight; for, instead of looking at his hostess, the parson, who was a singularly handsome man, with a band of crape on his arm, made two strides to the sofa, from which Enid, with a low cry of joy, arose and flung herself into his arms.
"My own darling!" exclaimed the man.
"Maurice—dearest Maurice!" the girl rejoined; and then she burst out crying upon his shoulder; and he kissed her and called her fond names in entire oblivion of Miss Vane's stately presence.
The old lady was both scandalised and offended by these proceedings. Her sharp eyes looked brighter and her rather prominent nose more hawk-like than ever as she made her voice heard at last.
"I should like some explanation of this extraordinary behavior!" she said; with asperity. "Sir, I have not the honor of knowing you! Enid, what does this mean?"
"I am the Rector of Beechfield," said Mr. Evandale. "I most heartily beg your pardon, Miss Vane, for the way in which I have introduced myself to you! I wrote to ask if I might see you, because I know what a friend you have always been to Enid, and I wanted to see you myself and tell you how Enid and I had come to understand each other; but, when I saw my darling here—safe with you—I was so much taken by surprise——"
"I am taken by surprise too," said Miss Vane grimly. "Pray, sir, does the General know of your mutual understanding?"
"No, aunt Leo; and that is one reason why I came to you," said Enid, abandoning Maurice Evandale and bestowing an embrace upon her aunt. "You know, I had just told you that I was not engaged to Hubert."