“Mr. Lambert and I missed our train back to Bray,” Francie began at once in a hurried deprecating voice, “and we came down to see the boat come in just to pass the time—” Her voice stopped as if she had suddenly gasped for breath, and Pamela heard Hawkins’ voice say behind her:
“How de do, Miss Fitzpatrick? Who’d have thought of meetin’ you here?” in a tone of cheerfully casual acquaintanceship.
Even Pamela, with all her imaginative sympathy, did not guess what Francie felt in that sick and flinching moment, when everything rung and tingled round her as if she had been struck; the red had deserted her cheek like a cowardly defender, and the ground felt uneven under her feet, but the instinct of self-control that is born of habit and convention in the feeblest of us came mechanically to her help.
“And I never thought I’d see you either,” she answered, in the same tone; “I suppose you’re all going to Lismoyle together, Miss Dysart?”
“No, we stay in Dublin to-night,” said Pamela, with sufficient consciousness of the situation to wish to shorten it. “Oh, thank you, Mr. Hawkins, I should be very glad if you would put these rugs in the carriage.”
Hawkins disappeared with the rugs in the wake of Lady Dysart, and Lambert and Pamela and Francie followed slowly together in the same direction. Pamela was in the difficult position of a person who is full of a sympathy that it is wholly out of the question to express.
“I am so glad that we chanced to meet you here,” she said, “we have not heard anything of you for such a long time.”
The kindness in her voice had the effect of conveying to Francie how much in need of kindness she was, and the creeping smart of tears gathered under her eyelids.
“It’s awfully kind of you to say so, Miss Dysart,” she said, with something in her voice that made even the Dublin brogue pathetic; “I didn’t think anyone at Lismoyle remembered me now.”
“Oh, we don’t forget people quite so quickly as that,” said Pamela, thinking that Mr. Hawkins must have behaved worse than she had believed; “I see this is our carriage. Mamma, did you know that Miss Fitzpatrick was here?”