And now that the first fury as regarded Sue had spent itself, this causeless dejection of spirit took its place. She was no longer bitter against Sue; she would have liked to take her sister to her heart and comfort her. She would have liked—oh, how she would have liked—to confide to her, to some one, to any one the dim confused tumult of half-formed regrets and yearnings—"Oh, I have lost something that I never had!"—she cried aloud.
But who so bold and merry as this elfin Leo an hour afterwards?
"I have brought Mr. Custance in to tea, father. Oh, father, I want you; I have heaps of things to ask you about. I'm always forgetting them, because you are so seldom in at tea. I met Mr. Custance marching off in another direction," continued Leo, looking round, "but I just marched him up here instead,"—and she awaited applause.
It was a masterstroke, and so Sybil pronounced it afterwards. "No one but you would have dared, you audacious imp," she shook the strategist by the shoulder. "After that rumpus!"
"It was rather a shame dragging the poor innocent man into the rumpus, and Sue was really hurt," quoth Leo, with a guileless air. "There was nothing for it but to make use of her permission, and not only 'see the rector' but haul him along."
She had told herself that nothing would so effectually do away with any fear of self-betrayal on Sue's part, as this easy introduction of a guest never less expected and perhaps never more welcome. She had waylaid the well-known figure from whom she had formerly fled, and her end was attained.
But the general was not to be allowed to interfere with it, and he heard himself forthwith accosted. "Father, I wish you'd tell me; I was out in the woods just now, and a bird was singing——"
"Very wonderful, I'm sure. A bird usually sings in a garret, or a cellar, of course."
"Don't you laugh at me, father; you know about birds, and I don't; and I really do want you to tell me why one should sing, and the others not, at this time of year?"