“He lives in chambers in Westminster now, and only comes out in this direction occasionally to see Lucy. I am afraid she has taken to drinking. I believe she is going to America. I hope she is; for she makes me uncomfortable when I think of her.”
“Does your—your Ned ever speak of her?”
“No. He used to, before he changed as I described. Now, he never mentions her. Hush! Here he is.”
The sound of the organ had ceased; and Conolly came out and stood between them.
“How do you like my consoler, as Marian calls it?” said he.
“Do you mean the organ?”
“Yes.”
“I wasn’t listening to you.”
“You should have: I played the great fugue in A minor expressly for your entertainment: you used to work at Liszt’s transcription of it. The organ is only occasionally my consoler. For the most part I am driven to it by habit and a certain itching in my fingers. Marian is my real consoler.”
“So she has just been telling me,” said Elinor. Conolly’s surprise escaped him for just a moment in a quick glance at Marian. She colored, and looked reproachfully at her cousin, who added, “I am sure you must be a nuisance to the neighbors.”