From twice in a week Max’s visits grew to three, and soon to one a day; but always towards her there was a quiet gentlemanly reserve, and once, and once only, when they were left alone for a minute, did Max say words that gave her cause for thought.
“Nice woman, Mrs Marter,” said Max quietly, “only she keeps twitting me with my frequent visits. She will have they are for an end, while really, Miss Bedford, my sole end now is a little friendly feeling. O, here she comes back. Can’t you give us a little music? I do find it so dull here in town!—Just asking Miss Bedford to give us a little music, Mrs Marter,” said Max, raising his voice as that lady re-entered the room.
“O, yes, of course,” said Mrs Marter; and Ella was obliged to go to the piano.
She could not help wondering at times whether Charley Vining had ever tried to find out her address, a strange thrill passing through her frame at the thought; but the next moment she had crushed that thought out, and was sternly occupied over some task in connection with her duties.
At one time she thought of telling Mrs Brandon of Max’s visits, but as they seemed to grow daily more and more addressed to the lady of the house, there seemed to be no necessity; for there were days when hardly half-a-dozen words passed between her and Max during a visit, and she had not worldly wisdom enough to see that Max Bray was awaiting the time when it would suit him best to make his spring.
Volume Two—Chapter Twenty.
A Rival Encounter.
The day following his visit to Branksome-street, Charley made his way to Crescent Villas, and sent up his card to Mrs Marter.