So Madelene returned to her partner whose curiosity was not, at that time at least, destined to be satisfied. As soon as the dance was over, she declared herself too tired and hot to attempt the next, and sending Major Frost off to explain matters to a brother-officer of his to whom she happened to be engaged, she found a seat for herself in a corner of the conservatory where she hoped to be able to remain perdue for a few minutes.
Her head was full of Ella—for that Major Frost’s “Miss Wyndham” was not her sister she could scarcely believe. And she felt both uneasy, and indignant. Suddenly a slight rustling close at hand warned her that her retreat was no longer hers alone—a small figure in white was making its way in her direction, and as it seated itself she heard Ella’s voice say lightly to some one unseen.
“Oh, yes, you will find me here. It is very good of you to fetch it for me.”
Madelene rose to her feet. They were alone.
“Ella” she said.
The girl turned her head, then she too got up, and came forward, with a smile on her face, but a somewhat ill-assured and deprecating one.
“I was wondering when we should come across each other,” she said. “I meant to go into the other room to look for you and Ermine, Madelene,” and here she tried to smile again, but the effort was rather a failure, and her lips quivered a little. “Madelene, are you very astonished to see me? Had you no idea I—might perhaps come after all? Madelene, don’t look at me like that. I didn’t think you’d be so vexed.”
For Miss St Quentin’s face was growing very stern. She had caught sight of and identified the white tulle frock by this time.
“I cannot say anything till I understand the whole,” she began. “It is your place to tell me.”
Just then steps were heard approaching. Ella started.