“Oh, indeed. Thank you,” said the Rev. Mr. Lind, stiffly. “I suppose I had better see what he requires.”
“I suppose you had,” said Mrs. Fairfax, with some impatience.
“I dont wish to intrude where I have no business,” said Conolly quietly to the clergyman; “but I can play that lady’s accompaniment, if she will allow me.”
The clergyman was too much afraid of Conolly by this time—he did not know why—to demur. “I am sure she will not object,” he said, pretending to be relieved by the offer. “Your services will be most acceptable. Excuse me for one moment, whilst I inform Miss Lind.”
He crossed the room to the lady, and said in a lower tone, “I think I have succeeded in arranging the matter, Marian. That man says he will play for you.”
“I hope he can play,” said Marian doubtfully. “Who is he?”
“It is Conolly. Jasper’s man.”
Miss Lind’s eyes lighted. “Is that he?” she whispered, glancing curiously across the room at him. “Bring him and introduce him to us.”
“Is that necessary?” said the tall man, without lowering his voice sufficiently to prevent Conolly from hearing him. The clergyman hesitated.
“It is quite necessary: I do not know what he must think of us already,” said Marian, ashamed, and looking apprehensively at Conolly. He was staring with a policemanlike expression at the tall man, who, after a vain attempt to ignore him, had eventually to turn away. The Rev. Mr. Lind then led the electrician forward, and avoided a formal presentation by saying with a simper: “Here is Mr. Conolly, who will extricate us from all our difficulties.”