Reginald drew his chair to the table again, and opened a book, as if to show he had no more to say on the subject; and Salome returned to her mother, having first deposited her precious manuscript and the letter addressed to Messrs. Bardsley and Carrow in the drawer, where she had kept them since the day when Kate had so roughly handled the sheets.
"Are you going to write to Ada, Salome?" Mrs. Wilton asked.
"Not to-night, I think, mother."
"Hers is a delightful letter—dear child! I am sure I am thankful she is so happy; and Lady Monroe's little enclosure is so pleasant."
"I did not see that," Salome said. "Give it to me, mother;" and Salome read:—
"Your dear child is all, and more than all, I wished for a companion to my Eva. They are so happy together, and lessons are not forgotten. Ada is making rapid advances with her music. There are some very nice people in the hotel, and we have pleasant little drives, and picnics, and excursions in the sunshine and amongst the flowers."
Salome made no comment as she returned the letter to her mother, and the next minute Dr. Wilton's little short rap was heard, followed by Mrs. Pryor's footstep in the passage, eager to have the honour of admitting the doctor. "The only visitor she troubles herself about," Stevens always said.
"Uncle Loftus!" Salome exclaimed. "How late! It is past nine o'clock!"
"He must have been on a late round," Mrs. Wilton said. And then Mrs. Pryor, with her usual solemnity, announced,—
"Dr. Wilton."