"I KNOW that voice. Why—it's—"
Mr. Elvey did not finish the sentence. He caught Nigel's hand within two muscular palms, and nearly wrung it off.
"I didn't expect to be found out. Yes, I'm back. But you mustn't keep me, Mr. Elvey. How are you all? How is—Ethel?"
"Ethel's all right. The best girl that ever lived, if an old father has a right to say so. Come and see for yourself. There she is at the open window. My wife and all of them inside. How is she? Oh, much the same as always—very ailing, poor dear. Never knows what it is to be really well. But come, come along. Not keep you indeed! Rubbish and nonsense!" cried the Rector joyously, forgetting all about his own fatigue, and allowing Nigel no loophole for explanation. "Why, we were talking of you only an hour ago, wondering if the year of travel would alter you much. Has it? I can't see here. Come along—come!"
"I really ought not, I am afraid," protested Nigel, feeling as if the silken pull of Ethel's near presence, together with the Rector's grasp of his arm, were overcoming all his powers of resolution. "My baggage has gone home, and they will be expecting me."
"Well, well—we won't keep you three minutes. One shake hands all round. Why, what brought you here, if it wasn't for that? Ethel, Ethel!—Gilbert—Ralph—Lance—My dear!—" this meant his wife—"I've found an old friend in the garden, and he's trying to elope. Guess who! Open the door—somebody!"
They were almost under the window by this time, and Mr. Elvey did not need to raise his tones; indeed, the full impressive voice was used enough to making itself heard, and no barrier of glass intervened.
"What does he mean?" they heard Ethel ask merrily.
And in another moment she stood at the open hall door scanning the outside darkness.
She was plainly visible herself under the hall light. Nigel knew in a moment that the face which he had carried with him through his wanderings was unchanged—only a little developed, a little ripened, "prettier than ever," he told himself. Yet people in general did not count Ethel pretty. She had to be known intimately to be admired; and after all "pretty" was not the right word.