"And you don't mind being left?" he asked tenderly.
"Oh, anything to have the secret at an end!"
"Bluebell, for goodness' sake don't expect too much! What if my uncle disinherited me? It is not at all unlikely."
"Ah, Harry," said Bluebell, softly, "that comes of marrying me. Why did you not think of it first? I should be no worse off," continued she, musingly; "I could give music lessons. It's hard on you, of course; but, Harry, do, pray, whatever are the consequences, tell him."
"But you don't realize the consequences. I should be obliged to go to sea, leave you alone, and have scarcely any money to send you. But if he took it pleasantly, he could make it worth my while to leave the navy, which he has always wished me to do, or let us have sufficient coin for you to come to any port I am stationed at. As long as it was only myself, I didn't care so much; yet Bromley Towers is worth saving, if possible." A pause. "But I can't think what you will do while I am away."
"Shall I cultivate our visitors, Mr. and Mrs. Stevens?"
"Not for the world; we must let them slide quietly, and then people will begin to understand we don't wish to be called on."
"I daresay you are right; this house must be an oubliette till your awful uncle is confessed to." Bluebell spoke with some asperity; the concealment had become so unbearable. What would the Rollestons think if her mother imparted to them her improbable story of being married to a man who could not acknowledge her? And that dear old captain would most likely imagine the worst without her being able to undeceive him. But Harry was deep in Bradshaw, and unobservant.
"I shall sleep in London, I think, and go down next morning. Let me see, I shan't be able to get away till after the new year. Lord Bromley has the usual family gathering on for Christmas."
"Won't the time of your return somewhat depend on the way your communication is received?" asked Bluebell, demurely.