Lyttleton was strangely confused and embarrassed; the ease and perfect self-possession on which he so prided himself, had on a sudden entirely forsaken him; he darted a quick, imploring glance at Nell, and half in pity, half in contempt she returned an answering look that told him his secret was safe.
The others saw this by-play with varied feelings of wonder, curiosity and surprise, but no one understood it.
Captain Bernard was the first to speak.
"Well, gentlemen, it is growing very late and no prospect of abatement of the storm. I move that we adjourn sine die. Mr. Lyttleton, shall I have the pleasure of your good company to our hotel?"
[CHAPTER XXI.]
Never had scheme more signal failure than that of Lyttleton for convincing pretty Nell Lamar of his dauntless bravery; he went away from the major's that night crestfallen and angry, cursing his ill-luck and her quickness of perception.
Nor was fair Nell herself in a much more enviable state of mind; there was a sad, reproachful look in Kenneth's eyes as he bade her a courteous good-night, which haunted her for days and weeks like a nightmare.
She purposely avoided him when he called the next morning to enquire about Bertie, and when the weather permitted her to resume her walks and rides, was careful to select those in which she was least likely to meet him.
He was not slow to perceive this and it wounded him deeply; particularly as Lyttleton was very frequently her companion and his society seemed not unpleasant to her, if one might judge from her bright looks and smiles.