The condition of things which led to it was as follows.
Pen had an affair on hand, which had suddenly reached a forward stage, occupying the whole of her attention. A recent acquaintance, the Honourable James Wagstaff, a sensible and agreeable bachelor, well over sixty, with plenty of money, had taken a fancy to "neat Pen," and was assiduously pursuing her. Pen showed no reluctance or hesitation. It became clear that she was simply waiting for the word to be spoken.
There was nothing romantic or misty about this affair. It was straightforward and business-like.
Ned Fairfax had been much in and out of the house. Having come to his cousin's for a fortnight, he was there still. From the first he had dropped, easily and naturally, into his old position of intimacy with the Royston family. Much as Mrs. Royston liked him, she would have preferred a more cautious advance; but she found herself powerless. Fairfax took it for granted that he might do as he liked; and he made himself so charming to her personally, that she had not the heart to administer a check.
He was Magda's especial friend. All her world admitted the fact. She had the first right; and she took care to claim it. When Ned came to the house, he of course came to see her; and she was always on the spot, never doubting that he felt as she did.
It was delightful to have him again; to revert at once to the old order; to pour out unreservedly in his hearing her aims, her wishes, her difficulties, her worries—to be laughed at and genially set to rights by him. She enjoyed it heartily. Each day her mind was more and more full of Ned—of nothing but Ned. As usual, her steed ran away with her; and she could think of nought else. When Robert arrived, she did not so much as notice his pale and altered look. Her whole world now consisted of—Ned.
So different, she told herself, from the time when she had that silly little fancy for Mr. Ivor! She had never given him another thought since he went away; and he had not again been to the place. But Ned was her friend—her property—and everybody knew it. Everybody appeared to recognise her right.
Just exactly like former days!
Well, no; perhaps not exactly. As time went on, it dawned upon her that a distinction did exist. Some measure of reconstruction in the manner of their friendship was needful. Things had to be different from the days when he was a big boy and she a small girl. She could not now rush after Ned, whenever she wanted him. She must wait till he chose to come. He was a man—and she a woman—which altered the whole outlook.
He did very often come. But was it only or mainly after Magda? This was a question which soon took shape in the mind of Mrs. Royston. He always saw Magda, it was true, for she managed to be invariably to the fore; and the one desire of unselfish Merryl seemed to be that Magda should thoroughly enjoy her old friend. So surely as Fairfax appeared on the scene, Merryl effaced herself and left him to Magda. Mrs. Royston, watching with a mother's solicitude, had doubts whether Fairfax was duly grateful.