"You should know," said Darrel, quietly, and with a keen glance, "being his secretary."
"I have heard Jarman speak of this matter," replied Frank. He knew that Darrel's suspicions were aroused, and tried to keep the colour from his cheeks. He looked directly at Darrel, and the eyes of the two men met. It was Darrel who first withdrew his gaze.
"No," he said at length, "you're not a bit like Lancaster, although you have the same tone of voice."
"Has he indeed?" said Mildred, with interest.
"Lancaster was fair-haired and white-skinned," went on Darrel.
"Whereas I am a dark Celt," said Frank, drawing a long breath, as he deemed the danger was at an end.
"Well, don't talk any more about the matter," put in Mrs. Perth, sharply. "You'll upset Mildred, and the affair is too horrible to discuss."
Upon this hint Darrel turned the conversation into other channels, and devoted himself to Mrs. Perth. Frank thus had an opportunity of chatting with Mildred. They talked on the most indifferent subjects, but all the time each one knew what the other wanted to say. Such sudden love seems incredible to those who have never loved; but anyone who has fallen a victim to the great passion knows how suddenly the devouring flame blazes into a conflagration. The two had seen little of one another, all things considering, and they had never become confidential. Yet they loved one another, and it needed only an unguarded moment of emotion for the truth to be openly acknowledged between them.
Darrel, with his side-glances, saw their embarrassment, their flushed cheeks, their efforts to appear easy, and took note of all. But with great self-control he continued his conversation with Mrs. Perth. For quite an hour he talked, and then rose to take his leave, at the same moment as Frank announced his intention of departing.
"I am stopping at the Rectory," said Darrel, when they passed through the gate. "You come my way, I think?"