“That's good. You will be able, after all, to bring off the projected meeting between Mrs. Durward and your hermit—who, by the way, seems to have deserted his shell nowadays,” he added, twinkling.
And Sara, blissfully unaware that in this instance Elisabeth had abrogated to herself the rights of destiny, responded smilingly—
“Yes. Fate has actually arranged things quite satisfactorily for once.”
Half an hour later she presented herself at the Cliff Hotel, and was conducted upstairs to Mrs. Durward's sitting-room on the first floor.
Elisabeth welcomed her with all her wonted charm and sweetness. There was a shade of gravity in her manner as she spoke of Sara's engagement, but no hint of annoyance. She dwelt solely on Tim's disappointment and her own, exhibiting no bitterness, but only a rather wistful regret that another had succeeded where Tim had failed.
“And now,” she said, drawing Sara out on to the balcony, where she had been sitting prior to the latter's arrival, “and now, tell me about the lucky man.”
Sara found it a little difficult to describe the man she loved to the mother of the man she didn't love, but finally, by dint of skilful questioning, Elisabeth elicited the information she sought.
“Forty-three!” she exclaimed, as Sara vouchsafed his age. “But that's much too old for you, my dear!”
Sara shook her head.
“Not a bit,” she smiled back.