“O! yes, indeed,” said Miss Halifax. “Nothing could please me more.”
She meant it sincerely, and was gratified by the compromise from every point of view. The glow of pleasure was in the face she raised to Herbert Nestle, who came in at that moment with some correspondence for her. Gilead bent to his desk with a conscious smile. He fancied—recently enlightened as he supposed himself to be—that he could frequently now detect an interchange, between the secretary and amanuensis, of looks of a particular meaning and intelligence. Signs of a closer familiarity in their intercourse than he had hitherto observed often occurred to him, and he had to put force upon himself to avoid the appearance of watching for them. He only awaited, indeed, some definite confirmation of his suspicions, to bestow his official blessing upon the pair. He was prepared to do it, and anxious to end a somewhat invidious situation; yet it was a fact that, reason with himself as he might about the ideal nature of the union, the prospect of it always made him feel a little lonely and outcast.
Now, having answered the advertisement as arranged, he dismissed the matter from his mind.
He was engaged the next morning with Miss Halifax over divers matters of moment, when Nestle brought him a message that his correspondent had answered his letter in person, and was soliciting an interview. He carried with him a card, on which was engraved the name of Miss Daisy Limner, and, being instructed, in a few moments ushered in the lady herself, whom he left with his principal and the amanuensis.
Gilead invited his visitor to a seat, which she accepted with shyness, and disposed herself in with self-possession. She was slight, of an engaging figure, and most becomingly dressed in a slim high-waisted frock of a dove colour, and a beehive hat of not exaggerated proportions. Her eyes were limpid and appealing, and her age obviously justified its claim. A touch of powder on her cheek, of scarlet on her lip, emphasised nothing more than the irreclaimable tendency of her sex to paint the lily. But, indeed, it was so delicately done that it completely imposed upon Gilead.
“I am at your service, Madam,” said he. “You can bestow, if you will, your confidence upon us with perfect security.”
The young lady, at the plural pronoun, glanced askance, with an appearance of surprise, at the amanuensis.
“You can trust,” said Gilead, “in Miss Halifax as in me. Miss Halifax is my fiduciary and adviser in the most private business of the office.”
The stranger bowed slightly, but it was to be remarked that, in the interview which followed, she was at pains to ignore entirely the presence of the beautiful confidante.
“You make it, sir, I understand,” she said, nervously shifting as she spoke, and twining her fingers in her lap, “your interest to succour the wronged and afflicted?”