Luncheon was served immediately afterwards, and when it was over, Mr Bertrand carried off the young man to have a private talk in the library. They did not make their appearance until the afternoon was well advanced, and when they did, the drawing-room was full of people, for it was Miss Carr’s “At home” day, and the presence of Austin Bertrand, the celebrated novelist, brought together even more visitors than usual.
Hilary had not found the entertainment at all amusing. It seemed absurd to her innocent mind that people should come to see Miss Carr, and exchange no further word with her than “How d’you do,” and “Good-bye,” and though the hum of conversation filled the room, most of the visitors were too old and too grand to take any notice of a girl just out of the schoolroom. A few young girls accompanied their mothers, but though they eyed Hilary wistfully, they would not speak without the introduction which Miss Carr was too busy to give. One girl, however, stared more persistently than the rest, and Hilary returned her scrutiny with puzzled curiosity. She was a tall, elegant girl, but there was something in the wavy line of the eyebrows which seemed strangely familiar, and she had a peculiar way of drawing in her lips, which brought back a hundred misty recollections. Where had she seen that face before? Hilary asked herself, staring fixedly at the stranger. The stranger began to smile; a flash of recollection passed across each face, and the next moment they were clasping hands, and exclaiming in mutual recognition—
“Hilary!”
“Madge!”
“The idea of meeting you here! I haven’t seen you since we were tiny little dots at school. I thought you lived ever so far away—up in the North of England.”
“So we do; but we are here on a visit. Madge! how grown-up you are! You are only six months older than I, but you look ever so much more than that. How are you, and what are you doing, and how are all your brothers and sisters? Lettice will be so interested to know I have seen you.”
“Dear Lettice, yes! She was a nice girl. So affectionate, wasn’t she? I should like to see her again. Perhaps I may, for father has taken a house at Windermere for next summer, and if you are not far away, we could often meet and go excursions together.”
“Oh, how lovely! We are three miles from Windermere station, but we have a pony carriage and bicycles, and could drive over to see you. Do sit down, Madge. I don’t know anyone here, and it is so dull sitting by myself in a corner.”
“I am afraid I can’t. I am with mother, you see, and she doesn’t like to be left alone. Perhaps I shall see you again before I go!” And Madge Newcome nodded, and strolled off in a careless, indifferent manner which brought the blood to Hilary’s face. Mrs Newcome was talking to a group of friends and looked very well satisfied, so much so that Hilary suspected that the daughter’s anxiety had been more for herself than her mother, and that Miss Madge did not appreciate the attractions of sitting in a quiet corner.
“It’s very unkind, when I told her I knew nobody; but she was a selfish girl at school. She doesn’t want to stay with me, that’s the truth. I wish this horrid afternoon would come to an end!” she told herself dolefully, and it was with unconcealed delight that at last she heard the sound of Mr Rayner’s crutches, and welcomed that gentleman to a seat by her side. He looked brighter than she had yet seen him, and had evidently been enjoying himself upstairs.