"And Allan? Where is Allan?"
"I left him on his way to the Congo."
"You left him!—came back without him?"
"Yes. He wanted to extend his travels—to cross Africa. I was not so ambitious. I only wanted to come home."
His smile, as he turned to look at Suzette, told the astute matron all she desired to know.
"So," she exclaimed, "is the weathercock nailed to the vane at last?"
"The ship which has been tossing so long upon a sunless sea, is safe in her haven," answered Geoffrey.
Mrs. Mornington's keen perceptions took a swift review of the position. A much better match than poor Allan! Discombe, with revenues that had accumulated at compound interest during a long minority, must be better than Beechhurst, a mere villa, and an estate in Suffolk of which Mrs. Mornington knew very little except that it was hedged in and its glory overshadowed by the lands of a Most Noble and a Right Honourable or two. Discombe! The Squire of Discombe was a personage in that little world of Matcham; and the world of Matcham was all on the earthward side of the universe for which Miss Mornington cared.
Suzette's shilly-shallying little ways had answered admirably, it seemed, after all. How wisely Providence orders things, if we will only fold our hand and wait.
"Don't let me interrupt your musical studies, young people," exclaimed the good lady. "I only came to know if Suzette was going to the golf-ground."