Within a few days Chessingham mentioned to him casually that Miss Maywood would return to England at the first convenient opportunity. Mr. Romaine received the news with a sardonic grin and many expressions of civil regret.
“My dear Miss Maywood,” he said, the next time he ran across her, “you cannot imagine what a gap your absence will make to me. However, since your decision is made, all I can do will be to provide as far as possible for your comfort during your journey back to England. I will even let Chessingham off to take you to New York, and every day, while you are at sea, I will arrange that you shall have some reminder of those that you have left behind in Virginia.”
“Thank you,” stiffly responded the practical Ethel, who thought that Mr. Romaine had behaved like a brute.
The news of her impending departure was conveyed to Letty one afternoon when the two girls were sitting comfortably over Letty’s bed-room fire—for although there was still no love lost between them, they found no difficulty in maintaining a feminine entente cordiale. Letty was surprised and said so.
“Of course,” said Ethel, who could not banish her injuries from her mind, “it will be embarrassing to go back. Some malicious people will say that Mr. Romaine has jilted me—but there is not a word of truth in it.”
“Certainly not,” cried Letty, energetically. “Who on earth would believe that you would marry that old—pachyderm?” Letty hunted around in her mind for an epithet to suit Mr. Romaine, but could think of nothing better than the one she used.
“I’m afraid plenty of people will believe it,” answered Ethel, with a faint smile—and then the womanish incapacity to keep a secret that is not bound by a promise made her tell Letty the very thing she had declared she would not tell her.
“It sounds rather ungrateful of you to talk that way, for Mr. Romaine intends conferring a very great benefit—the greatest benefit—on you.”
“What do you mean?” asked the surprised Letty.
“Only this. A week or two ago he called Reggie and me into the library one afternoon, and there lay his will on the library table—and he asked us to act as witnesses and read us the will—and you are—”