“My God! he knows her—he knows her.”
One of her hands went down instinctively to the pocket into which she had thrust the letter brought by Clare. She kept her hand over it as though she were trying to hold it back from some one who wanted to get it. That was her attitude while she listened to the surprised greeting of the girl by Claude. He was saying that they had not been parted for long—certainly not so long as Clare—he called her Clare quite trippingly—had predicted they should be; and Clare inquired of him if he knew Miss Mowbray. Was he also a guest in Miss Mowbray's house?
“Heavens!” he cried, “surely I mentioned in the course of one of my long chats aboard the old Andalusian that I lived near Brackenhurst.”
“Lived near Brackenhurst?” she said with a laugh. “Why, I was under the impression that you lived near Bettinviga, in the land of the Gakennas, beyond the great Smoke Falls of the Zambesi I hope I have improved in my pronunciation of the names. Oh no; you never said anything about Brackenshire. If you had done-so I should certainly have told you that I was going into that country also—that is, if I succeeded in inducing Miss Mowbray to receive me.”
The expression that Agnes's face had worn gradually passed away as she heard them chatting together making mutual explanations. She was able to loose her hands from the curtain that had supported her. She was even able to give a smile—a sort of smile—as she straightened herself and took a step free of the curtain and facing the window.
“Is it possible that you were fellow-passengers on the Andalusian she asked.
“I fancied that I had told you of meeting Clare and her friends aboard the steamer that took us on from Aden,” said he. “Yes, I feel certain that I told you how much better I felt for the sympathy they offered me.”
“You mentioned that, but you did not give me any names,” said Agnes. “Pray come back to the sphere of influence of the fire, Clare; you must learn not to trust our English climate too implicitly. How the pigeons have taken to you! You must have some charm for them.”
“We lived in Venice for two years, and the pigeons of St. Mark's became my greatest friends,” said the girl. “I used to feed them daily, and it was while feeding them that a dear old man, who loved them also, taught me how to talk to them. I could not resist the temptation of trying if the birds here understood the language, so I went out to them from the next room when I saw them on the lawn.”
“And I think you may assume that your experiment was a success,” said Agnes, closing the window when the girl had entered, followed by-Claude. “Do you know of any other charms to prevail upon other creatures?”