“Why, Bobby,” she exclaimed, “not in bed yet?”
“Hush! hush!” he said in a low voice, “or Mamma will hear you! I couldn’t sleep till I had seen you again and wished you good-night!”
“Poor dear boy! Are you not very hungry?”
“No, thanks. Miss Wynward is very kind to me. She has seen after that. But to leave without a word to you. That was the hard part of it!”
“Poor Bobby!” ejaculated Harriet again, drawing nearer to him. “But you must not stay out of bed. You will catch your death of cold!”
“Kiss me then and I will go!”
He advanced his face to the opening of the door, and she put her lips to his, and drew his breath away with her own.
“Good-night! good-night!” murmured Bobby with a long sigh. “God bless you! good-night!” and then he disappeared, and Harriet entered her own room, and her eyes gleamed, as she recognised the fact that Bobby also was going to make a fool of himself for her sake.
The next morning she was surprised on going downstairs at about nine o’clock, to find a cloth laid over only part of the dining table, and breakfast evidently prepared for one person. She was still gazing at it in astonishment, and wondering what it meant, when Miss Wynward entered the room, to express a hope that Miss Brandt had slept well and had everything that she required.
“O! certainly yes! but where are we going to have breakfast?”