Of course it was a vast scheme—how vast I am sure father cannot have grasped at the time; but although he must have had grave doubts of the possibility of its success, he was carried away for the moment by Frank Forrester's wild enthusiasm upon the subject, and was persuaded by him to try and put it into immediate practice.
I think he was more drawn to Frank than ever by this. I think he was drawn to every one who cared for children. But although the captain was very enthusiastic over this scheme, he found time to look at Joyce and to sigh for a word from her, for a chance of seeing her alone, and she would not give it him.
For a whole fortnight after that memorable evening of the squire's ball she had kept him sighing; at least, I think that she had, and I was very sorry for him.
To be sure, mother's eyes were vigilant—it needed some bravery to elude mother's eyes but then I thought that if one wanted a thing very much one would be brave.
Was Joyce cold-hearted? Was that why her face was so calm and so beautiful.
But one day, at last, the squire and his nephew came and went away together, and mother, thinking the visit was over for the day, had gone out on household errands. I was coming in from taking a parcel of poor linen to the Vicarage when Deborah met me in the hall.
"That there captain's in with Miss Joyce in the parlor," said she. "They didn't want no light, they didn't. But I've took 'em in the lamp just this minute."
She said this with grim determination, and went off grumbling.
Deborah wanted Joyce to marry the squire, and I fancy she suspected me of furthering her acquaintance with the captain.
I did not go in as Deborah suggested, not until close upon the time when I was afraid mother would come home.