The lady fidgeted with the folds of her dress.
“Oh, pray forgive me for making such a foolish remark; but Mr. Lumley had impressed it upon me so much that you had been—been differently circumstanced, that I could not help getting worried and uneasy lest I should hurt your feelings. I hope,” she added anxiously, “that I am not doing so now.”
“Not at all, dear madam. I am sure you are here with the kindest intentions.”
The little lady looked inexpressibly relieved.
“Thank you—thank you! If ever a doubt of my meaning should arise, pray set it down to my foolish nervousness, and not to deliberate unkindness, for I had a daughter once.” Her voice quivered a little as she said this, and her thin white fingers clutched Florence’s arm. “I can very seldom trust myself to speak of her, but for her sake my heart yearns to the young and—and sorrowful.”
Moved by an irresistible impulse, Florence put her lips to the hand that had now slid into her own, and the little lady, warned by the tears gathering in the orphan’s eyes, began to talk more cheerfully.
“I quite hope we shall understand and like each other. My name is Wilson, and I have come to you——”
Mr. Lumley’s entrance interrupted her. He had found the missing bag, and nodded good-humoredly when he saw the confidential attitude the ladies had taken.
“Then you have introduced yourself, Mrs. Wilson! That’s right! And is Miss Heriton inclined to accept your proposals?”
“I don’t know yet. I have scarcely had time to ask her.”