“What had Mr. Aylwinne to say to you, Florence? Anything very interesting?”
“No, Aunt Margaret—at least, it would not interest you. It was merely some information I had asked him to procure for me.”
Mrs. Blunden’s “Oh!” was sharp and suspicious, but Florence’s was not the face of a young lady who has within the last hour accepted or rejected a suitor, and she was forced to conclude that she was mistaken.
The boys were urgent on the following morning to know whether their guardian intended remaining.
“You’d better, sir,” pleaded Fred, “for there’s splendid walks all round about; and if you were here we might have a boat and sail to lots of places where the Donna don’t like to trust us with only old Sam, the boatman. Do stay!”
“Yes, do!” echoed Mrs. Blunden. “I don’t mind confessing that I find a house very dull when it only contains three women and some children. I begin to want amusement.”
Mr. Aylwinne smiled at her frankness, while Mrs. Wilson looked shocked.
“To-day, at all events, I will devote to la Reine Marguerite; but whether I am to continue in her suite or not must depend”—he hesitated and colored a little—“must depend on circumstances.”
“And what are circumstances?” queried Mrs. Blunden. “I can’t understand a lord of the creation being governed by whim or accident, and calling himself the creature of circumstances. Why not say decidedly I do or I do not choose to stay?”
“Because,” he answered, in lowered tones, “I am not just at present master of my own actions. After this candid confession you will spare me, will you not?”