His musings were brought to an end by the entrance of Sir Philip with a note in his hand.
The old gentleman looked pale and troubled, but his words were gentle, as he said: “A note from Mr Bray, Charley: he asks us to dinner there to-morrow. Shall I say that we will go?”
“To the Elms?—to-morrow?” said Charley. “No, I cannot; I have an engagement.”
“An engagement!—to-morrow, Charley!” said Sir Philip sadly.
“Yes, I am going out—I cannot go,” said Charley hastily.
Sir Philip said no more, but he sighed deeply as he turned and left the room to decline the invitation, thinking bitterly the while of her who had robbed him of his son’s confidence and affection; for hitherto father and son had lived almost for one another, and now there was coldness and estrangement.
Laura Bray’s eyes sparkled as she saw the servant returning on horseback with the reply from Blandfield Court, for there was a strange excitement now pervading her. In obedience to her brother’s wish she had consented to try and prevail upon Ella Bedford to stay; but it was a source of infinite pleasure to her when she had written to tell Max, in London, that, in spite of all persuasion, Miss Bedford had insisted upon leaving, and had gone—bearing his reproaches and anger with the greatest of patience, when he came down by the fast train, and abused her, and charged her with counterplotting, in the midst of which scene he was interrupted, as we know, by the coming of Charley Vining. As for the events of the next quarter of an hour, they were burned in Laura’s memory; and, her rival gone, her heart was light, and she had sat longing for the time when she should next see him who so engrossed her thoughts.
It was at her instigation that a dinner-party had been arranged at the shortest of short notices, ostensibly so that Maximilian Bray might have Charley Vining to see him—a pleasant fiction, which formed the text for much good-humoured banter at the Bray table, while Laura blushed and looked conscious.
The man was a terrible while before he took in that letter, and Laura’s colour came and went a score of times. Then it seemed as if the footman would never bring the letter up. But at last it was handed to Mr Bray, who was so long getting out his glasses, that Laura, unable to contain herself, exclaimed:
“Let me look for you, papa.”