“I won’t read my letter now,” I answered. “I will take it home and read every word, study each sentence in my own room; but not now. You excite me. I am tired. I cannot bear any more.”
“Poor little girl,” said Mr Gray, in quite a tender voice. “There never was a more plucky creature than you, Rosamund Lindley; but you are a true woman after all. Well, my dear, go home. Early to-morrow I shall see you again.”
“I am to meet Lady Ursula Redmayne and Captain Valentine and his brother in Cousin Geoffrey’s house at twelve o’clock to-morrow,” I replied.
“What!” answered Mr Gray. “Has Tom Valentine returned? Do you know the Valentines—your cousins?”
“Are they really my cousins?”
“Yes, three or four times removed; but undoubtedly there was at one time a relationship. Well, Rosamund, what do you think of your cousin Tom Valentine?”
“I scarcely know that I think of him at all,” I replied.
“What! Have you not discovered that he is a traveller—a man who has met with remarkable adventures; a man of the world, a gentleman, a man of culture; also, and above all, an Englishman, with a true and honest heart?”
“I have had no time to find out these many excellent qualities,” I answered back.
“You will soon see them,” responded Mr Gray. “Your eyes will be opened. You will perceive what I mean; all, all that I mean. So you have already met Tom Valentine; and Tom has returned just in time. What an extraordinary coincidence! what a piece of luck!”