"Yes, that's what it looks like, at least. And the other day, when I went out, one of them stared at me so—most impertinent. I declare, if it goes on, we shall have to make a complaint. And one of them followed Elizabeth—didn't he, my dear?"
"I thought he did," said Elizabeth, indifferently, "but I didn't notice much. I have thought several times lately that there were people following me. Perhaps it is because my head feels so queer."
"What do the men look like?" asked Mrs. Bobby.
"Oh, quite respectable," said Miss Joanna. "They don't look like beggars, certainly. Cornelia thought they looked rather like detectives—she said they made her feel nervous; but that, of course, is quite ridiculous."
"Quite ridiculous," echoed Mrs. Bobby. To herself she was saying, "Ah, that trip abroad!"
"Eleanor has an invitation for Mrs. Lansdowne's ball, auntie," said Elizabeth, suddenly changing the subject, which did not seem to interest her, by the introduction of one that evidently rankled in her mind. "She thinks it is odd I wasn't asked. I told you," she went on, with a bitter smile, "that people are giving me up since my engagement was broken off."
"But that is nonsense," remonstrated Miss Joanna, in distress. "Tell her," she said, turning pleadingly to Mrs. Bobby, "that that isn't so."
Mrs. Bobby started up and took Elizabeth's hand. "I don't know," she said, speaking with strange earnestness, "who gives you up, Elizabeth dear, and I don't care. I never will. Remember that, dear child. I will stand by you whatever happens." And then, as if conscious of having said too much, or fearful perhaps of saying more, Mrs. Bobby swept hastily from the room, leaving her hearers petrified.
Miss Joanna was the first to speak. "How very strange she was!" she said, in a low voice. "What—what do you think she meant?"
Elizabeth was staring vacantly at the door, but at her aunt's words she turned.