"Exactly what I said to you. You are both sensible people. I can hardly imagine that any misunderstanding can exist after an hour's talk."
Mr. Traill looked at his watch. A carriage stopped at the hotel.
"Here's Stanhope, and his mother," cried Pyne; so his uncle hurried off to receive his guests.
Lady Margaret was a well-preserved woman of aristocratic pose. But her serenity was disturbed. Although the land was ringing with the fame of her son's exploit, and her mother's heart was throbbing with pride, there had been tearful hours of vigil for her. Not without a struggle had she abandoned her hope that he would make a well-endowed match.
When Constance and Enid arrived she was very stately and dignified, scrutinizing, with all a mother's incredulity, the girl who had caused her to capitulate.
But Enid scored a prompt success. She swept aside the almost unconscious reserve with which Jack's mother greeted her.
"You knew," she murmured wistfully. "We did not. They would not tell us. How you must have suffered until the news came that he had escaped."
Lady Margaret drew the timid girl nearer and kissed her.
"My dear," she whispered, "I am beginning to understand why Jack loves you. He is my only son, but you are worthy of him."
Mrs. Vansittart's appearance created a timely diversion. She had obtained a black lace dress. It accentuated the settled pallor of her face, but she was perfectly self-possessed, and uttered a nice womanly compliment to the two girls, who wore white demi-toilette costumes.