"Were you uneasy?" says Miss Chesney, viciously and utterly unrepenting: "I am glad of it."
"Was it part of your plan to make my mother wretched also?" This is a slight exaggeration, as Lady Chetwoode has not even been bordering on the "wretched," and is, in fact, up to the present moment totally ignorant of Lilian's absence.
"I certainly did not mean to make dear auntie unhappy," in a faintly-troubled tone. "But I shall tell her all the truth, and ask her pardon, when I get home,—back, I mean," with studied correction of the sweet word.
"What is the truth?"
"First, that I broke her lovely cup. And then I shall tell her why I stayed so long at Steynemore."
"And what will that be?"
"You know very well. I shall just say to her, 'Auntie, your son, Sir Guy, behaved so rudely to me this afternoon, I was obliged to leave Chetwoode for a while.' Then she will forgive me."
Sir Guy laughs in spite of himself; and Lilian, could he only have peeped into the deep recesses of the plaid, might also be plainly seen with her pretty lips apart and all her naughty bewitching face dimpling with laughter.
These frivolous symptoms are, however, rapidly and sternly suppressed on both sides.