"A bad sign!" she said to herself. "Girls do not start and change color when nothing is wrong. Margaret used not to be nervous. I wonder how far that man went with her. She may be unconscious of his intentions—he may not have any; and then she will have been made conspicuous for nothing! I wish the Brands had stayed away for another year or two."
The sound of wheels had proceeded from a dog-cart in which Mr. Adair, after an absence of a fortnight, was driving from the station. In a very few minutes he had crossed the lawn, greeted his wife, sisters and daughter, and thrown himself lazily into a luxurious lounging-chair.
"Ah, this is delightful!" he said. "London is terribly smoky and grimy at this time of year. And you all look charming—and so exactly the same as ever! Nothing changes down here, does it, my Pearl?"
He was stroking Margaret's hand, which lay upon his knee, as he spoke. The girl colored and dropped her eyes.
"Changes must come to us all," she said, in a low voice.
"A very trite remark, my dear," said Lady Caroline, smiling, "but we need not anticipate changes before they come. We are just as we were when you went away, Reginald, and nothing at all has happened."
She thought that Margaret looked at her oddly, but she did not care to meet her daughter's eyes just then. Lady Caroline was not an unworldly woman, not a very conscientious one, or apt to set a great value on fine moral distinctions; but she did regret just then that she had not impressed on her daughter more deeply the virtue of perfect truthfulness.
"By-the-by," said Mr. Adair, "I saw some letters on the hall table and brought them out with me. Will you excuse me if I open them? Why—that's the Brands' crest."
Lady Caroline wished that he had left the words unsaid. Margaret's face went crimson and then turned very pale. Her mother saw her embarrassment and hastened to relieve it.
"Margaret, dear, will you take Alicia my smelling salts? I think they may relieve her headache. Tell her not to get up—I will come and see her soon."