Mrs Brandon was evidently expecting news; for, after sitting talking to Ella in a quiet affectionate way for some time, she rang the bell, and the hard footman appeared.
“Has not Thomas returned from Laneton with the letter-bag?”
“Just coming up the lane as you rang, ma’am,” said the man, who then hurried out, to return with several letters, three of which Mrs Brandon read with the greatest interest and a slight flush of colour in her cheeks, when, with a gratified sigh, she placed them in a desk, and closing her eyes, leaned back quiet and thoughtful, till her musing was interrupted by the reappearance of the footman, with salver and card.
“Gentleman wishes to see Miss Bedford,” said the man, handing the card.
“Not the same gentleman?” exclaimed Mrs Brandon excitedly, and as if annoyed at what she looked upon as a breach of faith.
“No, ’m; ’nother gentleman—a little one,” said the hard footman.
“That will do,” said Mrs Brandon quietly; and the man left the room, as, with the colour mounting to her cheeks, Ella handed the card just taken.
“Mr Maximilian Bray,” said Mrs Brandon, glancing at the delicate slip of pasteboard, enamelled and scented. “That is the Mr Bray you named?”
Ella bowed her head, and then, as if transformed into another, she said hastily,
“Mrs Brandon, I think you give me credit for trying to avoid this unpleasantly; you know I cannot help these calls. It will be better,” she said huskily, “that I leave here, and at once.”