“Well,” said Jack, “at any rate you know where to find her—while I——”
“I saw her shadow on the blind,” said Leonard, simply. “I could swear to it among a hundred. I watched her beautiful profile for an hour in that railway carriage.”
“Treherne, Laura Treherne,” said Jack. “It is a pretty name. What took her to Hurst Leigh that night, I wonder? The night the squire died. Len, it is a romance, but I envy you. If I knew where Una lived I’d hang about the house night and day until I saw her. Len, do you know what it is to be hungry, to be parched and dried up with thirst so that you would give all you possessed—ten years of your life for a draught of water? That is just how I feel when I think of that beautiful face, with its soft brown eyes and innocent smile! And when do I not think of her?”
“And you didn’t speak to Lady Bell?” said Leonard.
Jack made a hasty explanation and made for the door, nearly running against the housekeeper.
“A letter for you, sir,” she said.
Jack tore it open, read it and threw it to Leonard.
The envelope was a dainty gray color, and stamped with an elaborate coat of arms, with the initials I. E. in cipher underneath, and inside was a card of invitation to a ball, filled in by a lady’s delicate hand, with a line in addition.
“With Lady Earlsley’s compliments and regret that she was from home when Mr. Newcombe called.”
“Jack, what condescension. You must go!”