I had grown so much at home now at the Halletts’, that, finding the door open one evening, I walked straight in, knocked twice, and, receiving no answer, tried the door, which yielded to my touch, swung open, and I surprised Linny writing a letter, which, with a flaming face, she shuffled under the blotting-paper, and held up a warning finger, for Mrs Hallett was fast asleep.
“Where’s Mr Hallett?” I said.
“In Bluebeard’s chamber,” cried Linny playfully; “I’ll go and tell him you are here.”
I nodded, thinking how pretty she looked with her flushed cheeks, and she went softly to the door, but only to come back quickly.
“Antony, dear,” she whispered, laying her hand on my shoulder, “you like me, don’t you?”
“Of course I do,” I replied.
“Did you see what I was doing?” she continued, busily readjusting my neckerchief, and then looking me full in the face.
“Yes; you were writing a letter.”
She nodded.
“Don’t tell Stephen,” she whispered.