Annie had noticed upon her first entrance that Stephen and Miss West were in animated converse, and that the former seemed very much engrossed by his companion. He now turned with eagerness to her again, and asked whether he should have the pleasure of meeting her on his return. But Annie did not invite Miss West to stay to tea. So he left, casting at the very last moment an ardent and expressive glance at the object of his evident admiration.
The two women had not been many minutes alone together before Annie discovered that the real object of her visitor was to discover whether her more prosperous fellow-artist could oblige her with a loan. Annie had some money to spare, and could not refuse, especially as she felt that fate had been capricious in giving her a good engagement and the chance she had pined for, while Miss West, who she felt was really the greater actress of the two, was out of work and restlessly longing for an opportunity of distinction, as she herself had so long been.
Miss West had not been gone more than a few minutes when Stephen returned, and Annie asked anxiously for news of Harry, which his cousin seemed chary of imparting to her.
“Can’t you tell me where he is and how he is, Stephen?” she asked impatiently.
“I can’t tell you where he is, because he is traveling about, and I don’t know myself where he is at this moment. But he is quite well, and I haven’t seen him in such good spirits for a long time.”
“Oh,” said Annie, her face falling involuntarily. “I am very glad to hear that! Does he—I suppose he doesn’t speak of coming to town?”
“Oh, dear, no! You know Harry hates town; he is not like the same man now he has got back into the country again, and to—”
Here Stephen pulled himself up short and Annie said quietly, with tightened lips:
“Go on, Stephen. Harry is happier now he has got back to—what?”
“Oh, I only meant the country air and the country people! You know he is a regular rustic, and Londoners don’t suit him.”