Meantime Margot had returned to the far end of the room, and adroitly slipped the third letter out of her pocket, feeling that it would be selfish to delay reading the contents, as they must certainly cast some light upon the present situation. Her heart sank a little as she recognised that the attention was less personal than she had imagined, but even so, it was to herself that the magazine had been directed, and that was an evidence of the fact that in publishing the poem her pleasure had been considered even more than Ronald’s advancement.
She tore open the stiff white envelope and read as follows:—
“Dear Miss Vane,—
“I hear that you are to arrive home this afternoon, and intend to take the liberty of calling upon you after dinner, in the hope that you may be able to give me a few minutes of uninterrupted conversation on a subject of great importance. If you are too much fatigued after your journey, pray have no scruples in refusing me admission, in which case I shall take an early opportunity of calling again; but after the strain of the past few weeks I do not find myself able to wait longer than is absolutely necessary for an interview.
“Yours faithfully,—
“George Elgood.”
“Is that from Elgood? What does he say? What does he say? Let us see what he says!” petitioned Ron eagerly; but Margot returned the letter to her pocket, resolutely ignoring his outstretched hand.
“He gives no explanation, but he is coming to-night. Coming to call after dinner, and he asks me to see him alone, so I’ll find out all about it, and tell you afterwards.”
“Alone!” Ron’s face was eloquent with surprise, disappointment, and a dawning suspicion. “Why alone? It’s more my affair than yours. I must thank him before he goes.”
“I’ll send for you, then. I suppose he wants to explain to me first. I’ll be sure to send for you!” reiterated Margot hurriedly, as she disappeared through the doorway. Her first impulse was, girl-like, to make for her own room, to give those final touches to hair and dress, which are so all-important in effect, and that done, to sit alone, listening for the expected knock at the door, the sound of footsteps ascending to the drawing-room. To meet George Elgood here! To see his tall dark figure outlined against the familiar background of home,—Margot gasped at the thought, and felt her heart leap painfully at every fresh sound.