The new curate came slowly into the room, his short-sighted eyes peering about him, a little faggot of papers girdled by an elastic band, clasped in his careful hand against his breast.
Magdalen started violently, and Lord Lossiemouth experienced a furious exasperation.
Magdalen mechanically introduced the two men to each other, and they all three sat down, with the same sudden automatic precision as when Bessie had been present.
"The days are beginning to lengthen already," said Mr. Thomson. "I have noticed it, especially the last few days, and the rooks are clamourous—very clamourous."
"It was to be expected," faltered Magdalen.
"The accounts are, I am glad to say, in perfect order. I am proud to add, though I fear a statement so unusual may lay me open to a charge of romancing, that we have a small balance in hand."
How he had looked forward to saying these words. With what a flash of surprised delight he had expected this astounding, this gratifying announcement would be received.
He paused a moment to let his words sink in—evidently Miss Bellairs had not heard.
"Three pounds five and nine," he said.
"It is wonderful," said Magdalen emphatically.