"Nearly knocked me over," said the Colonel, who had caught the last words.
"Don't notice it; I am afraid Bluebell has lost her heart to young Vavasour; and she is miserable at going home, because she thinks she will not see him."
"I am delighted you have put a stop to that folly," said the Colonel; "that boy dawdles over here every afternoon. I can't have Miss Bluebell's 'followers' everlastingly caterwauling in my house."
An expression of extreme astonishment came over Cecil's face.
"Bluebell doesn't care in the least for Jack Vavasour," said she.
"You are evidently not in her confidence. She told me 'she should never care for any one else'—her very words, the little goose."
Cecil seemed lost in perplexity. "And she doesn't want to go home?" asked she in a bewildered manner.
"Crying her eyes out at this moment I dare say."
"Then for goodness sake let her go home, and stay there till she is better," said the Colonel, irritably. "A love lorn young lady perpetually before me I cannot and will not endure."
His daughter's brow was knitted with thought. Bluebell was evidently in distress at going, but that it had any reference to Jack she totally disbelieved. A latent suspicion revived, and her face grew pained and hard. It was near dinner time, but, instead of going up to dress, she turned into a little smoking room to ponder it out. What motive could Bluebell have had to avow a perfectly fictitious love affair with Vavasour, unless it was to throw dust in Mrs. Rolleston's eyes and blind her to, perhaps, some underhand flirtation with Bertie? Cecil's affection for her friend received a severe wrench directly she admitted such a possibility, and then, as she meditated, two or three incidents, too slight to be noticed at the time, rose up to confirm it.