“No, don't do that. I intend taking her by surprise.” Elisabeth smiled and dimpled like a child in the possession of a secret. “I shall go down there just in time for dinner, and write to Sara the same evening.”
Major Durward laughed with indulgent amusement.
“What an absurd lady you are still, Beth!” he exclaimed, his honest face beaming adoration. “No one would take you to be the mother of a grown-up son!”
“Wouldn't they?” For a moment Elisabeth's eyes—veiled, enigmatical as ever—rested on Tim's distant figure, where he stood deep in the discussion of some knotty point with the head gardener. Then they came back to her husband's face, and she laughed lightly. “Everybody doesn't see me through the rose-coloured spectacles that you do, dearest.”
“There are no 'rose-coloured spectacles' about it,” protested Geoffrey energetically. “No one on earth would take you for a day more than thirty—if it weren't for the solid fact of Tim's six feet of bone and muscle!”
Elisabeth jumped up and kissed her husband impulsively.
“Geoffrey, you're a great dear,” she declared warmly. “Now I must run off and tell Fanchette to pack my things.”
So it came about that on the following Tuesday, Sara, to her astonishment and delight, received a letter from Elisabeth announcing her arrival at the Cliff Hotel.
“Why, Elisabeth is already here!” she exclaimed, addressing the family at Sunnyside collectively. “She came last night.”
Selwyn looked up from his correspondence with a kindly smile.