She took him in to breakfast—she had recovered her appetite— and told Miss Firs-Robinson all about it on the spot.
Miss Firs-Robinson, who had refused to believe in Elfrida's determination to break off her engagement with Ambert, was at first greatly upset. She marched to the window, turning her back upon Blount—it was beyond question the finest back in Europe —and there thrummed upon the panes for a minute or so. Then she came back.
"It is a blow—a blow," said she. "Your poor father meant you to be—-"
"Happy!" said Elfrida, "And I shall be so happy with Tom, and Tom with me. Won't you, Tom?" Blount had his arm round her in a moment. "And I couldn't bear Ambert, auntie, could I now? And you couldn't bear him, either, could you now?"
She left Blount's dear arms, and went to Miss Firs-Robinson, and slipped herself into her embrace.
"He was an earl!" said the old lady, in a distinct tone.
"He was a beast," said her niece sweetly.
There seemed something definite about this. Miss Firs-Robinson let Elfrida recline upon her ample bosom, and Elfrida accepted the air-cushion very gracefully. Peace with honour seemed to be restored, when all at once Miss Firs-Robinson spoke again. Her words were unpleasant, but she for the first time on this eventful morning addressed them to Blount, which of course was a good sign.
"Elfrida has a great deal of money," said she.
"I know," said Blount. He was feeling restive.