Accordingly, while Annie was trotting on horseback in to Rashleigh with that money which was to be exchanged for the necessary receipt from Dawson, Saxon broached the subject of Paris to the old man.
“There is a little matter, sir,” he said, “which I should like to speak to you about.”
“And what is that, John?”
“It relates to your niece Annie.”
“Ah, dear child!” said the old man; “and what about her?”
“She seems to be in distress,” continued Saxon. “Oh, please don’t worry, sir; her great anxiety is to prevent your worrying.”
“Dear, dear child! So thoughtful of her,” murmured the clergyman.
“You were rather bad, you know, yesterday, and she and I took a walk together while you were having your sleep. It was then she confided to me that she has been invited to Paris.”
“I know, John,” said old Mr Brooke, turning and looking fixedly at the young man; “and I am the last to prevent her going; but, naturally, I want to know something about the woman who has invited her—a certain Lady Lushington. I never heard her name before. Annie tells me that Lady Lushington’s niece is her greatest school friend; and I feel assured that my Annie would not have a school friend who was not in all respects worthy—that goes without saying; nevertheless, a young girl has to be guarded. Don’t you agree with me, John?”
“Certainly I do, sir. Still, if you will permit me to say so, Annie seems very sensible.”