"I have been across the Channel, you know, Ellen, since you left for Eastsea," he began. He had grown sufficiently intimate at Mrs. Cumberland's since his enforced term of idleness, to drop the formal "Miss Adair" for her Christian name.
"Yes, we heard of it. You went to engage workmen, did you not?"
"For one thing. When I returned home, I found a letter or two awaiting me from Arthur Bohun, who was then at Eastsea. Madam had opened one of them."
Ellen looked up, and then looked down again immediately. Richard North saw a change pass over her face, as though she were startled.
"I could not quite understand the letters; I think Arthur intended me not to fully understand them. They spoke of some--some event that was coming off, at which he wished me to be present."
Ellen saw that he did understand: at least, that he believed he did. She rose from her seat and went close to him, speaking in agitation.
"Will you grant me a request, Richard? I know you can be a firm friend; you are very true. Do not ever think of it again--do not speak of it to living man or woman."
"I presume it did not take place, Ellen."
"No. And the sooner it is altogether forgotten, the better."
He took her hand between his, and drew her to the fire. They stood before it side by side.