"Where were you and Sir Victor all day, Edith?"
"I and Sir Victor have not been any where all day, Beatrix. During the last hour we have been walking in the grounds."
"What were you talking about?"
"Many things," Miss Darrell responded, promptly. "The beauty of the prospect—the comfort of English homes, and the weather, of course. If I understood short-hand, and had been aware of your anxiety on the subject, I might have taken notes of our conversation for your benefit."
"Did you talk of me?"
"I believe your name was mentioned."
"Dith!" in a whisper, and raising herself on her elbow, "did Sir
Victor say any thing about—about—you know what."
"He did not say one word about being in love with you, or marrying you, if that is what you mean. Now please stop catechising, and let me look at the pictures."
Twilight fell—dinner hour came; with it Sir Victor. He looked pale, anxious, tired. He answered all his aunt's inquiries about the Drexel family in the briefest possible manner. His over-fond aunt looked at him a little uneasily—he was so unlike himself, and presently drew him aside, after dinner, and spoke.
"Victor what is the matter? Are you ill?"