“I’m sure I don’t know,” answered Mildred, but Lilian persisted that she did, and at last, in sheer despair, Mildred said: “You might ask him if he ever intended to be married.”
“Well then, what?” said Lilian.
“Mercy, I don’t know,” returned Mildred. “It would depend altogether upon his answer. Perhaps he’ll say he does—perhaps he’ll say he don’t.”
This was enough to mystify Lilian completely; and, with a most doleful expression she began to change her dress, saying the while:
“I see you won’t help me out; but I don’t care. He most offered himself that night I sat with him when you were down with Clubs;” and she repeated, in an exaggerated form, several things which he had said to her, while all the while poor Mildred’s tears were dropping into the trunk which she was packing.
Ever since Oliver had told her of Lawrence’s drowning cry there had been a warm, sunny spot in her heart, but Lilian’s words had chilled it, and to herself she whispered sadly:
“Oliver did not hear aright. It was ‘Lily! dear Lily!’ he said.”
“Mildred!” screamed the Judge from the lower hall, “come down here, quick; I want you for as much as fifteen minutes; and you, Miss Lilian, if that packing isn’t done, hurry up, or Thornton will go off without you.”
“I think it’s right hateful in him,” muttered Lilian, adding, in a coaxing tone, as Mildred was leaving the room, “won’t you kind of be thinking how I can lead the conversation in that direction, for I shall have a splendid chance in the cars, and you can whisper it to me before I go.”
“I wonder what he wants of her?” she continued to herself as Mildred ran down stairs. “I mean to hurry and see,” and she so quickened her movements that scarcely ten minutes had elapsed ere her trunk was ready, and she had started in quest of Mildred.