‘It was a misanthropical letter, anything but complimentary to the Belassis family; but I can’t see why she should have purloined it. It is not a paper they would care to study long or frequently, I imagine.’
Maud’s face had clouded over.
‘Aunt Celia always knows what she is about. You may be sure that that paper is of more value than you know.’
‘If so,’ said Tor composedly, ‘I will take care to get it back pretty quickly. I am going over there to-night. In all probability I shall bring it back with me.’
Maud looked admiringly at him, but shook her head.
‘You won’t if Aunt Celia wants it; besides, you cannot ask for it.’
‘I’m not so sure of that,’ said Tor, and Maud wondered which half of the sentence he was answering.
After dinner, in the soft summer twilight, he walked over to Thornton House. Maud accompanied him through the park, but he would not let her come farther, nor be present at his interview with the aunt, about which she felt very curious.
After she had turned back, he pursued his way slowly, thinking over what he should say to her, and also to Belassis, if he should, as was not improbable, have to encounter them both. On the whole, he felt he would rather face the two together than meet them singly.
In this fortune favoured him. Lewis had taken his sisters to a dinner-party in the neighbourhood, and Mr. and Mrs. Belassis were in earnest talk together in the drawing-room, when the door was suddenly opened, and the servant announced in loud tones: