Had they possessed the power of looking through the wall they might have seen Mr. Leicester's tall, stalwart figure where he leaned against the garden gate, smoking his before-bed cigar, and ruminating, as wakeful as herself.
As for Lady Ethel, she, too, was thoughtful; but that was nothing unusual for her. But when Lord Fitz himself, who was generally extremely talkative, leaned back in profound silence for at least the time occupied in traversing two of the six miles to Coombe Lodge, Ethel felt rather surprised.
"How quiet you are, Fitz!" she said.
"Eh! am I?" he replied, rousing. "I was thinking. I say, Ethel, what do you think of the Mildmays?"
"I haven't thought very much about them," said Lady Ethel, and indeed she had not. "I think Violet Mildmay is very pretty."
"Isn't she!" exclaimed Lord Fitz, eagerly. "I think her the nicest girl I've seen. She's what you call a 'bluestocking,' isn't she? One of the 'merry and wise sort,' eh, Ethel?"
"Yes, I liked what I have seen of her very much. I am glad we have met."
"Yes, so am I," said Lord Fitz. "I say, I heard Bertie and Leicester arranging a riding party; do you know if Miss Mildmay is coming?"
"I believe so," said Ethel; "yes, I am sure she is."