“They will be in town next winter, I suppose?” said Mr. Guildford.
“Yes. My brother-in-law must be in town,” Cicely answered.
“May I come to see you there sometimes?” asked Mr. Guildford with a little hesitation.
“Of course,” replied Cicely cordially. “My sister will be very glad to see you too. You know,” she added, “little Charlie was her child, and she has no other children.”
“You don’t know what your address will be, of course,” said Mr. Guildford after a little pause.
“No,” said Cicely. “Amiel only says,” she went on, drawing Lady Forrester’s letter out of her pocket and reading from it,—“‘We shall take a furnished house in some good neighbourhood; but at first we can go to a hotel. Of course you will be with us, and if you can meet us at Marseilles so much the better.’” She had taken another letter out without noticing it; now her glance fell upon it. “Oh! by the bye,” she exclaimed, “you can hear of our whereabouts from Mr. Hayle. He will be sure to know my address.”
“From Mr. Hayle!” exclaimed Mr. Guildford, eyeing the English letter on her lap with suspicion.
“Yes,” said Cicely. “He writes to me often. He is settled now, you know; he has a large parish, and seems quite in his element. I told you, I think, how very, very good and kind he was when mamma was so ill.”
She spoke without hesitation, looking Mr. Guildford straight in the face as she did so. But to her extreme annoyance she felt her face colour. Something in the expression of the dark eyes observing her destroyed her composure, and the more she endeavoured to recover it, the more uncomfortable she grew. “Why does he look at me so suspiciously?” she said to herself. “But how foolish of me to mind it!” “Don’t you remember my telling you about our meeting Mr. Hayle again at Leobury?” she repeated, confusedly.
“Yes. I think I remember some little mention of it,” he replied coldly. And soon after he got up to say good-bye.