Constance clasped her hands. “I am so pleased!” she exclaimed, in a low tone.
“So am I,” said Mr. Yorke. “I would rather you went to Lady Augusta’s than to a stranger’s. And do, Constance, try and make those poor girls more what they ought to be.”
“That I shall try, you may be sure, William. Are you not coming in?”
“No,” said Mr. Yorke, who had held out his hand on reaching the door. He was pretty constant in his evening visits to the Channings, but he had made an engagement for this one with a brother clergyman.
Constance entered. She looked in the study for her brothers, but only Arthur was there. He was leaning his elbow upon the table in a thoughtful mood.
“Where are they all?” inquired Constance.
“Tom and Charles have gone to the cricket match. I don’t think Hamish has come in.”
“Why did you not go to cricket also?”
“I don’t know,” said Arthur. “I did not feel much inclination for cricket this evening.”
“You looked depressed, Arthur, but I have some good news for you,” Constance said, bending over him with a bright smile. “It is settled about my going out, and I am to have forty guineas a year. Guess where it is to?”