“We are going to luncheon at Moreland Hall to-day, my dear.”
“Why, we were there only last week!” said Helen.
“Undoubtedly,” returned the duchess dryly, “and we may luncheon there next week and the next following. And,” she added, looking into her companion's gray eyes, “it rests with YOU to stay there if you choose.”
Helen stared at her protector.
“My dear,” continued the duchess, slipping her arm around Helen's waist, “Sir James has honored ME—as became my relations to YOU—with his confidences. As you haven't given me YOURS I suppose you have none, and that I am telling you news when I say that Sir James wishes to marry you.”
The unmistakable astonishment in the girl's eye satisfied the duchess even before her voice.
“But he scarcely knows me or anything of me!” said the young girl quickly.
“On the contrary, my dear, he knows EVERYTHING about you. I have been particular in telling him all I know—and some things even YOU don't know and couldn't tell him. For instance, that you are a very nice person. Come, my dear, don't look so stupefied, or I shall really think there's something in it that I don't know. It's not a laughing nor a crying matter yet—at present it's only luncheon again with a civil man who has three daughters and a place in the county. Don't make the mistake, however, of refusing him before he offers—whatever you do afterwards.”
“But”—stammered Helen.
“But—you are going to say that you don't love him and have never thought of him as a husband,” interrupted the duchess; “I read it in your face,—and it's a very proper thing to say.”