"So you are actually staying at Woodlands?" said Mervyn.
"Yes; we came yesterday. Colonel Erskine proved to be my father's old friend."
"Ah, I remember,—you were questioning me in the Park. I must renew acquaintance with Colonel Tracy presently. There's Emmeline calling me to a sense of my duties. I hope yonder portly dame doesn't mean to adventure herself on the ice. She'll drown the whole bevy of us. Arctic frost wouldn't sustain her weight. Have you skates, Miss Tracy? I'll be back in a minute. Here, Edred, can you see to these ladies?"
Edred's response to the appeal was not too cordial. He shook hands with Dolly, but hardly met her eyes; and then he bent his attention to the fastening of Dorothea's skates. When they both looked up, Dolly was gone.
"Where can she be?" Dorothea asked. "Yes, I see! Your brother has her on the ice."
A shadow crossed Edred's face, marked enough to be unmistakable. "Yes," he said briefly. "Now, will you let me help you?"
Dorothea was not a very experienced skater, and some little assistance was welcome. Edred attached himself to her side for a considerable time.
"Poor man! it is hard upon him!" thought Dorothea, "when he is longing to be with Dolly. But—if she has what she wants, I must not interfere."
Neither Dorothea, nor Edred wore capable of difficult evolutions. They went solemnly round and round the pond, doing their best to avoid collisions. Dorothea tried in vain to get up any manner of conversation on everyday topics. She took refuge at last in Edred's London work, mentioned the Parish, and started him in a lengthy dissertation upon the duties of churchwardens. Whether she or he thought much about what he said may be doubted; but the gravity of the two faces gave them every appearance of intent interest.
Dolly flashed past now and then, holding Mervyn's hand. The two were executing intricate curves, with equal ease and grace. Dorothea felt certain that at all events Dolly was enjoying herself.