Lottie saw his dilemma, and, while she too began to blush absurdly, would not help him, and her head bent lower than ever over her work.
"Serves him right," she thought. "If he had only met me in the hall, I might—well, I wouldn't have been an icicle."
At last Hemstead concluded that he could safely say "good morning"; and he did so in a very awkward manner over his shoulder.
"Did you speak to me?" asked Lottie, as if suddenly aroused.
"Yes," he replied, under the painful necessity of repeating something that had sounded very flat in the first place, "I said good morning."
"O, excuse me. As it is so late I bid you good afternoon."
Her manner as well as her words so quenched poor Hemstead that he did not venture another syllable; and thus Lottie and her "true knight" had the meeting to which, in remembrance of their parting, both had looked forward with strange thrills of expectation.
But in the light of their flaming cheeks Miss Martell caught a glimpse of their hearts; and Mrs. Marchmont was again led to fear that more was going on than should be permitted by so good a manager as herself.
The dinner-bell soon brought welcome relief to all, breaking the spell of awkward constraint.