‘Yes,’ replied Amy, blushing; ‘and he is here this evening, you know, with his cousin, who is staying at Rockledge with him. He talked so much about this cousin, but oh! he is not half so nice-looking as himself; and—and—I hope you will like him, Lizzie dear,’ kissing me affectionately as she spoke, ‘for I have told him so much about you.’
‘I am sure I shall, Amy,’ I replied as I returned her caress; we were on the staircase at the time, descending to the dining-room. ‘I assure you I am quite impatient to see your hero. By-the-bye, dear, what is his name?’
‘Armytage.’ And then, seeing my blank look of amazement, she repeated it—‘Armytage. Have you never heard the name before? I think it’s such a pretty one. Amy Armytage,’ she whispered finally in my ear, as, laughing merrily, she pushed me before her into the dining-room.
It was all done so suddenly that I had no time to think about it, for before the echo of her words had died away, I was in the midst of the family group, being warmly kissed by Mrs Rodwell, and Mattie, and Nelly, and Lotty, and shaken hands with by the dear, kind old doctor, and his rough school-boys.
‘Well, Lizzie dear,’ exclaimed my motherly hostess, as she claimed me for a second embrace, ‘this is quite an unexpected treat, to have you here to-night; I thought we were never going to see you again. But you look pale, my child; I am afraid you are kept too much in the house. Doctor, what have you been about, not to take better care of Lizzie? You should give her a tonic, or speak to Lady Cunningham on the subject.’
But the good old doctor stuck both his fingers into his ears.
‘Now, I’m not going to have any talk about pale looks or physic bottles to-night,’ he said; ‘the time for doctoring to-day is over. Miss Lizzie, you just come and sit between Tom and me, and we’ll give you something that will beat all the tonics that were ever invented. Here, Mattie, pass the scones and oatcakes down this way, will you? If you children think you are going to keep all the good things up at your end of the table, you are very much mistaken,’ and with no gentle touch my hospitable friend nearly pulled me down into his own lap.
‘Now, doctor!’ exclaimed Mrs Rodwell, with an affectation of annoyance, ‘I will not have you treat my guests in this way. Lizzie has come to see me, not you, and she sits by no side but mine. Besides, you have not even given me time to introduce the gentlemen to her. Lizzie, my dear, we must all be friends here this evening. Mr Bruce Armytage, Mr Frederick Armytage—Miss Lacy. And now, doctor, we’ll go to tea as soon as you please.’
I had known from the moment of my entering the room that there were strangers in it, but I had not dared to glance their way. Amy’s announcement of her lover’s name had come too unexpectedly to permit me to form any fixed idea upon the subject, excepting that it was the same as mine had borne, and yet, when Mrs Rodwell repeated it with the familiar prefix, strange to say, I seemed to hear it with no second shock, but to have known the bitter truth all along.
Not so, however, Bruce Armytage; for Mrs Rodwell’s introduction was scarcely concluded before I heard his voice (unforgotten through the lapse of years) exclaim, ‘Miss Lacy!’ in a tone of surprise, which could not but be patent to all.