‘Hollo, Morville! how are you? So you have great doings to-night, I hear!’ and he had only just forced himself from him, when he was again accosted, this time in a hasty, embarrassed manner,—
‘I beg your pardon, sir, but the ties of relationship—’
He drew himself up as if he was on parade, faced round, and replied with an emphatic ‘Sir!’ as he behold a thin, foreign-looking man, in a somewhat flashy style of dress, who, bowing low, repeated breathlessly,—
‘I beg your pardon—Sir Guy Morville, I believe!’
‘Captain Morville, sir!’
‘I beg your pardon—I mistook. A thousand pardons,’ and he retreated; while Philip, after a moment’s wonder, pursued his walk.
The Hollywell party entered Broadstone in a very different temper, and greatly did they enjoy the concert, both for themselves and for each other. In the midst of it, while Amy was intent on the Italian words of a song, Guy touched her hand, and pointed to a line in the programme—
Solo on the violin.... MR. S. B. DIXON.
She looked up in his face with an expression full of inquiry; but it was no time for speaking, and she only saw how the colour mantled on his cheek when the violinist appeared, and how he looked down the whole time of the performance, only now and then venturing a furtive though earnest glance.
He did not say anything till they were seated in the carriage, and then astonished Mrs. Edmonstone by exclaiming—