He looked round at once and laughed at her pleading face.
“Well, it’s all—right, if that’s what you want to know.”
“You—”
“I’m engaged, yes, hard and fast. Why,” he said, with a quick anxiety in his voice, “what’s the matter? Sit down, sit down,” he went on, dragging over a chair, and putting her into it very tenderly, for the delicate colour had quite faded out of her face. But she smiled at him the next moment.
“It is very silly of me, but I have been thinking so much about it; and somehow I fancied from your manner that things were not going straight, and I was foolishly anxious.”
“You shouldn’t care so much about me,” said the young man with real remorse; “nobody else in the world would trouble themselves as you do. I should have told you directly, if it had entered my head that you were taking it to heart like this. Let me go and get you a glass of water or sal-volatile or something, you are as shaky as possible.”
But Miss Cartwright sat up cheerfully.
“It is nothing at all, Jack; I am quite well again, and your news is the best thing for me, if I really wanted anything. Is it all settled?”
“Yes,” he said with a little restraint again, and pulling a magnolia leaf as he spoke. “Phillis is at Bologna with the Leytons, we all came out together. Yes, it is true; I expected it to astonish you.”
“Don’t tell me anything more for a minute or two,” said his aunt gently, putting up her hands; “it is one thing on another. Phillis at Bologna? I don’t quite understand.”