So Helen was at last released from this purgatorial tête-à-tête, and permitted to join the rest of the company.
When she took leave of Miss Calderwood (which I must say she did very stiffly), she read more than a mere contemptuous dismissal in that lady's eyes; she saw suspicion, ay, and dislike, lurking in those shallow grey orbs; but Mr. Redmond wrung her hand affectionately at parting and said in his heartiest manner,—
"And to think of your knowing Gilbert! Eh, what? Well, I have dozens of questions to ask you about him; I shall be over to-morrow or next day."
"Poor Helen, I pitied you," said Katie as they walked home. "It was too bad of Mr. Redmond to carry you off."
"Il faut souffrir pour être belle," added Dido, with a laugh. "What a dose you must have had of 'my nephew!—my nephew'!"
As far as the Misses Sheridan were concerned "the chape entertainment" had been a prodigious success. They had enjoyed themselves immensely; had played tennis, sipped tea, and strolled about the grounds under military escort. Katie's tongue as she tripped along went like the clapper of the proverbial mill; but Helen was preoccupied and unusually silent. To return viâ dillon's Gate at the hour of seven p.m. was a feat quite beyond the Misses Sheridan's courage, and in spite of their cousin's protestations and remonstrances they insisted on going round by the road and entered Crowmore by the old avenue. As they turned a corner they noticed Sally's portly figure speeding towards the Castle with somewhat guilty haste, and a man approaching in their direction with his hands in his pockets and a straw in his mouth. To Helen's amazement it was Larry Flood.
"More power, ladies," was his brief but novel greeting.
"A fine evening, Larry," returned Dido. "So you have been walking with Sally?"
"'Tis only wance in a way, your ladyship."
"Is Biddy still against it?"