“It is not pleasant standing here, Miss Berwick,” he said. “I am in no hurry; suppose you allow me to walk so far on your way with you, and we can compare notes about all our old acquaintances.”
“By all means,” replied Sophy, delighted with his unusual urbanity, which confirmed her in her often expressed opinion that ‘Ralph Severn only wanted shaking to be a good fun as any one.’
“What were we talking about?” added she.
“Miss Freer,” he said, carelessly. “I think so at least. You were saying she had gone out to India, were you not? I did not know she lived permanently with Mrs. Archer?”
“She didn’t,” said Sophy. “At Altes she was only visiting her. But she was going out to India to be married. Mrs. Archer told me so herself one day, and Marion was very angry. She wanted it kept a secret. Her husband-to-be is enormously rich, much older than she, I believe. I am almost sure she did not like the idea. Her manner was so queer when it was referred to. I expect she had been forced into it. She was so poor, you know.”
“You don’t happen to know the gentleman’s name, do you?” in a voice that would have sounded startling in a strangeness to any one less obtuse than his companion.
“No,” she said, consideringly. “I did not hear it. Mrs. Archer was just going to tell it me, but Marion got so angry she stopped. She was to be married as soon as she got there. Why, she will almost be married now—in another month any way! Doesn’t it seem funny?”
She looked up in Sir Ralph’s face as she spoke—her bright, good-humoured eyes fixed on his face in all good faith and unconcern. She thought she was speaking the truth. Ralph looked at her, and saw that she meant what she said.
He accepted it.
Something in his glance struck even Sophy as peculiar. Whispers had once or twice reached her at Altes that he too, the unimpressionable baronet, had at last been “attracted”—if not more. And by whom, of all people in the world, but by that quiet, pale girl, the Miss Freer, who gave daily lessons to his nieces! It was very strange, the Altes magpies said to each other, what there was about that girl that gentlemen found so charming. Very strange and incomprehensible; above all, that Sir Ralph Severn, who might marry “any one,” should think of her. He was odd, certainly, but then there was his mother. She would never hear of such a thing! So, as no further material was provided for the growth of the report, it died a natural death, and was quickly succeeded by other and more exciting topics.