“What a colour you have, Nelly,” said Mrs. Eastwood innocently. “I suppose it is the wind. The Major tells me the wind is in the east. You should not have stayed out so long. Come to the fire and warm yourselves, both of you. I see you have got no primroses after all.”
“There were none,” said Nelly guiltily, putting her hand over the little cluster in her belt. “It is too cold for them; but I don’t think I ever was out on such a lovely night.”
“You have no idea how beautiful it is,” said young Molyneux—and then he took his leave in the most embarrassed way. When he clutched one of her hands and held it fast, and groped in the dark for the other, Nelly thanked heaven in mingled fright and gratitude that she had put a stop to his intention of at once telling her mother. What might he not have done before Mrs. Eastwood’s very eyes?
“But Nelly,” said the mother, when he was gone, “you should not have stayed so long out of doors. I don’t want to be absurd, or to put things into your head; but Ernest Molyneux is quite a young man, and very nice-looking, and just the sort of person to have stories made up about him—and really what object you could both have, wandering about on a cold night, except chatter and nonsense——”
Nelly was kneeling before the fire, warming her cold little fingers. At this address she sidled up to her mother’s side, and put her flushed cheek down on Mrs. Eastwood’s silken lap, and began with the most coaxing and melting of voices,—
“Mamma!”
It is not to be wondered at if an event like this happening quite suddenly and unexpectedly in an innocent young house which had not yet begun to afflict itself with love-stories should for the moment have eclipsed everything, and put the strange inmate and all the circumstances of her first appearance at once into the shade.
CHAPTER XIII.
CONSULTATIONS.
The commotion produced in The Elms by the above event was very great. It was the first experience of the family in this kind of thing, and it affected everybody, from Mrs. Eastwood down to the kitchen-maid. Frederick was perhaps the least moved of all. He intimated it as his opinion that Molyneux was all right, seeing that he had a father before him; that he wondered at Nelly’s taste, but supposed it was her own look-out, and if she was pleased no one had any right to interfere. He made this speech rather disagreeable to his sister from the little shrug of the shoulders with which he announced his surprise at her taste; but otherwise he was friendly enough. Dick, for his part, said little, but he walked round her with a certain serious investigation in the intervals of his studies.
“You look exactly as you did yesterday; I can’t see any difference,” said Dick. “Why don’t you put on another kind of gown, or pin Molyneux’s card on you, to show you are disposed of?”