She went down to the long drawing-room, and found all her guests departed, excepting John Mortimer, who came up to take leave of her. He smiled. "I wanted to apologize," he said, taking her hand, "(it was a great liberty), for the change I made in your table."
"The change, did you say," she answered, oh so softly! "or the changes?" And then she became suddenly shy, and withdrew her hand, which he was still holding; and he, drawing himself up to his full height, stood stock still for a moment as if lost in thought and in surprise.
It was such a very slight hint to him that two ladies had been concerned, but he took it,—remembered that one of them was the sister of his host, and also that he had not been allowed to carry out his changes just as he had devised them. "I asked Emily's leave," he said, "to take her in."
"Oh, did you?" answered Dorothea, with what seemed involuntary interest, and then he took his leave.
"Why did I never think of this before? I don't believe there ever was such a fool in this world," he said to himself, as he mounted his horse and rode off. "Of course, if I were driven to it, Emily would be fifty times more suitable for me than that calm blond spinster. Liberty is sweet, however, and I will not do it if I can help it. The worst of it is, that Emily, of all the women of my acquaintance, is the only one who does not care one straw about me. There's no hurry—I fancy myself making her an offer, and getting laughed at for my pains." Then John Mortimer amused himself with recollections of poor Fred Walker's wooing, how ridiculous he had made himself, and how she had laughed at him, and yet, out of mere sweetness of nature, taken him. "It's not in her to be in love with any man," he reflected; "and I suppose it's not in me to be in love with any woman. So far at least we might meet on equal ground."
In the meantime, Dorothea was cosily resting on the sofa in her dressing-room, her husband was with her, and St. George Mortimer Brandon,—the latter as quiet as possible in his cot, now nobody cared whether his behaviour did him credit or not.
"Love," she said, "do you know I shouldn't be at all surprised if John
Mortimer has made Justina an offer, and she has refused him."
"I should be very much surprised, indeed," said Brandon, laughing; "I think highly of his good sense—and of hers, for both which reasons I feel sure, my darling, that he has not made her an offer, and she has not refused him."
"But I am almost sure he has," proceeded Dorothea, "otherwise I should be obliged to think that the kind of things she said to-day were not quite fair."
"What did she say?"