“Don’t keep me, mamsey dear,” she said, “Major Winchester is waiting for me. I only ran up for my hat and jacket. You wouldn’t have said I was looking bright and well if you had seen me half an hour or so ago. I was in the depths of despair about my part. Indeed, I was almost making up my mind to throw it all up.”
“And are you in better spirits now, dearest? I am sure they would all be dreadfully disappointed if you gave it up. You will certainly be the central figure in it, by what I hear.”
“Oh, mamsey dear, you mustn’t believe such nonsense,” said Imogen. “I truly can’t act a bit, and—I’m not at all sure but that some people would be glad if I give it up. However, I think it will go a little better now. Major Winchester has been so kind, so painstaking and patient with me about it—he has been coaching me for ever so long down in the library.”
“Indeed, dear. I am very glad you have got him to help you. He has really been your good fairy here ever since we came.”
“Yes, truly he has,” said Imogen. “And he is so nice. I had no idea he was such a hero, mamma. You should hear the stories Trixie was telling me of the wonderfully brave things he has done. And Trixie, you know, is by no means one of his admirers in a general way. But I mustn’t keep him waiting. Good-bye, mamsey darling,” and off she flew, a perfect picture of sunny brightness.
“Dear child!” thought her mother. “She seems as happy as possible. It is really wonderful—such a child as she is to have made a conquest of a man like him. He does seem rather old for her, but yet—if she is content; and of course it is not a connection one could in any way ever feel ashamed of. Still, I hope he will not think of precipitating matters: it would be almost more honourable if he were to wait till she has seen a little more of the world. If I could manage to give her a London season next year; but I hardly see how I can. Mrs Helmont has her hands quite full with her own daughters, and she says their London house is too small for visitors. I wonder if there is any one else I could look up; or if we let our Eastbourne house, and could take a little one temporarily in London, as Imogen wishes.”
Whereupon her mind set off on an interesting journey of practical details, ways, and means.
“The nicest of all,” she decided, reverting to the original subject of her meditations, “would be if Major Winchester were to speak to me in the first place. If there were an understanding between him and me, it would all be so much easier; perhaps he will speak to me. Of course, I may have to allow an engagement almost at once. Dear, dear! how astonished everybody will be; it is not often nowadays that a girl so young— But really I must get my letters written and not waste time.”
The said letters contained more than one hint of coming events, for Mrs Wentworth found it impossible altogether to repress her sense of maternal exultation.
And several times during the next few days her heart beat faster, and she was conscious of a flutter of pleasurable expectation, when Rex happened to approach her or seemed to be seeking her society.