“Show Mr Lister up,” she said, in a quiet dignified way; and, as the footman left the room—“Go in there, Antony, and wait until Mr Lister has gone. He will not stay long.”
She pointed to the folding-doors that opened into a larger drawing-room, followed me, and pointing to a table covered with books, returned, leaving the door ajar.
The various illustrated books were no little attraction, but the thought of becoming an engineer, and perhaps being of service to Mr Hallett, kept me from looking at them, and the next moment I heard the little drawing-room door open, and Mr Lister’s voice, every word being perfectly audible.
“Ah, my dear Miriam!” he exclaimed; “why, my dear girl, you look quite pale.”
I felt very guilty, and as if I were listening purposely to the words passing in the next room; so, taking up a book, I tried to read it, but in spite of my efforts every word came plain and clear, and I heard all.
“I have been a little unwell,” said Miss Carr quietly.
“My poor girl!” he said tenderly. “Ah, you have been away too much! Miriam, dear, I want you to listen to me to-day. When am I to make you my prisoner, and keep you from these errant ways?”
There was no reply, and a dead silence seemed to fall.
“Why, Miriam, darling,” said Mr Lister, in a tender voice, “you are more unwell than I thought for; why not have advice?”
“No, no,” she said hastily. “I am quite well, indeed, John.”