Oh! it was wrong; wrong of her to act so. They reached the end of the shady walk and turned again.
"How long are you going to remain in that precious choir?" resumed Georgina, "wasting your time for the public benefit."
"Mr. St. John put the very same question to me this morning. He——"
"Mr. St. John!" she interrupted, in startling, nay, wild impulse, and her face became one glow of excitement. "But what do you mean?" she added, subsiding into calmness as recollection returned to her. "He is not in Westerbury."
The words, the emotion, told their own tale; and their true meaning flashed upon his brain. It was an era in the unhappy boy's life. How was it that he had been blind all these years?
"You take a strange interest in him, Miss Beauclerc," and there seemed to be no life left in his pale face, as he turned to her with the question.
"For another's sake," she evasively answered. "I told you some time ago Frederick St. John was in love with her."
He knew to whom she alluded. "Do you think it likely that he is, Miss Beauclerc?"
"If he's not in love with herself, he is in love with her beauty," said Georgina, with a laugh. "But you know what the popular belief is—that the heir of the St. Johns, whatever he may do with his love, may only give his hand to his cousin, Lady Anne."