“Kitty never gave herself airs of any kind,” cried her friend indignantly. “No; I understand her feelings perfectly.”
“Shall you give up Mr Everitt?” inquired Bell.
“Give him up—no! But I shall take care that she is smoothed down. I have got a little plan in my head.”
What it was she would not reveal, though the girl did her best to find out. But that evening Mrs Marchmont informed her husband that she wished places to be taken at a favourite theatre.
“Five?” he repeated, lifting his eyebrows.
“Well, can’t you go yourself?”
“Impossible. I must be at the House.”
“Then, four. Charlie Everitt will take care of me; and I shall ask old General Sinclair besides, and a girl.”
She wrote to Everitt, “Keep yourself at liberty for Thursday evening;” and Kitty, who came to see her that afternoon, heard only of the play and of General Sinclair. Not that Mrs Marchmont intended to take her by surprise in such a manner as to allow of no retreat. They would all dine together beforehand, and Kitty should come half an hour before the others. Then would her friend gently and diplomatically unfold to her who was to be of the party, and use all her persuasions to induce her to meet him, and get over the first awkwardness. Should Kitty be hopelessly obstinate, there would still be time for her to retire, and there would be no difficulty in finding some one close at hand to replace her at short notice. To tell the truth, she did not dare to entrap Kitty in any closer mesh. She trusted to her own persuasions, to the girl’s dislike to making a fuss, to the chapter of accidents, the hundred and one things which play unexpected parts. She was a little nervous, but her spirits rose when she thought how smoothly everything might run. “If only,” she reflected—“if only it all turns out well, and I can get them together—not just at first, perhaps, but after one or two acts! There is nothing more effective than a play for putting people on a pleasant footing.” It was only of Kitty’s possible perverseness that she thought. Then on the morning of Thursday she wrote to Everitt; and, in the fulness of her expectations, perhaps let drop more of a hint of these intentions than she imagined. To her amazement he answered her letter in person.
“Are you come to dinner?” she demanded. “You are even earlier than I expected; but I need not say I am very glad to see you.”