The intelligence was evidently very little satisfactory to Angela, nor did she attempt to conceal her concern.
“I am very sorry to hear that,” she said. “I hoped you were going to stay for some time.”
“And so I might have, had it not been for that brute Aleck, but he has put a long sojourn with your cousin and the ghost of Snarleyow out of the question; so I suppose I must go by the 6.20 train. At any rate,” he added, more brightly, as a thought struck him, “I must go from Isleworth.”
She did not appear to see the drift of the last part of his remark, but answered,
“I am going with my father to call at Isleworth at three this afternoon, so perhaps we shall meet again there; but now, before I go in, I will show you a better place than this to fish, a little higher up, where Jakes, our gardener, always sets his night-lines.”
Arthur assented, as he would have been glad to assent to anything likely to prolong the interview, and they walked off slowly together, talking as cheerfully as a sense that the conversation must soon come to an end would allow. The spot was reached all too soon, and Angela with evident reluctance, for she was not accustomed to conceal her feelings, said that she must now go.
“Why must you go so soon?”
“Well, to tell you the truth, to-day is my birthday—I am twenty to-day—and I know that Pigott, my old nurse, means to give me a little present at breakfast, and she will be dreadfully disappointed if I am late. She has been thinking a great deal about it, you see.”
“May I wish you many, very many, happy returns of the day? and”—with a little hesitation—“may I also offer you a present, a very worthless one I fear?”
“How can I——” stammered Angela, when he cut her short.