“I am almost all day in Oxley,” he said, “but I hope you are well, and the Rector?”
“Pretty well, my dear, for our time of life. We have had a lonely winter; but we push along together, you see.”
Arthur managed to smile, but his face went to Flossy’s heart, though neither she nor Mrs Harcourt knew exactly how the fifty years which the old husband and wife had “had wi’ ane anither” had once seemed to stretch before the young lovers, who never saw of them a single day.
“You have been getting some tea for us, Mrs Harcourt?” she said.
“Oh, yes, my dear. Now, do you pour it out, and Arthur will have some. But will your young Italian friend drink tea?”
“Oh, yes, signora, I like tea,” and, with a start of relief, Arthur turned at the sound of her voice.
“Mademoiselle Mattei!” he said; “I did not know you;” and, in truth, Violante was much altered at first sight by her dark winter dress and jacket, and little black hat with a red plume.
Arthur shook hands with her, and asked her how she liked England.
“I like it very much.”
“Why, we were very near an explanation. If you had told me where you were going to school I could have enlightened you much better as to what your life would be like there.”