The morning after she had arrived Beatrix came into her room with a letter. Dick had gone off early to his ship. "What does this mean? Surely it can't be true!" she said.
The letter was from her father. They were to have dined with him that evening. He was going off to Spain, on banking business, that day. He expected to be in Madrid and Barcelona about a week, and on his way back he should take Barbara to Switzerland for a fortnight or so, and then bring her home. Beatrix was to tell Caroline, and he would write to them from abroad. No time for more now, as he was going off in such a hurry. Then came a postcript. "Have you heard of Ella's engagement? Sir John Ambleside. He's a nice fellow, and just the right age for her. Write and congratulate her."
They stared at one another, utterly surprised. It was four months now since Caroline had come home, and the idea of a marriage between their father and Ella had been discussed between them. Since then they had come to take it quite for granted. Ella had been in London ever since, except for two week-end visits to Surley, and one to Abington, when there had been so large a party of relations and friends that it had seemed as if the occasion would be chosen to make an announcement. That was a month ago, at Whitsuntide. Neither of them had seen Ella since, and their father had only once been down to Abington.
"Sir John Ambleside," said Caroline. "That's the Beckleys' cousin, that Jimmy told Bunting about. But—"
"Poor old Daddy. He's running away," said Beatrix. "But how beastly of her!"
They tried to adjust their recollections. They had taken it for granted. Had they had reason, or had they been mistaken all the time?
"Of course, she's never given a hint," said Caroline.
"Oh, my dear! You saw how she was with him at Whitsuntide."
"Not really very different from what she has always been. Perhaps gayer, and rather more at home. At least we thought so."
"I'm sure the poor old darling was in love with her. He was as happy as a king all that time. I know the signs."