“My dear fellow, you have grown mighty suspicious all at once. Why should any one have sent me? may not I look up an old friend for my own pleasure? surely we have known each other sufficiently for that.”
“You might,” said John, “but I don’t think that is the whole question, and it would be best to tell me at once what you want to know—I am quite willing to unfold my experiences,” he said, with a forced smile; and then there was a pause——
“The fact of the matter is,” said Fred Huntley, after an interval, with an attempt at jocularity, “that you are an intensely lucky fellow. What will you say if I tell you that I have just come from Fernwood, and that if any one sent me it was Kate Crediton, wishing for a report as to your health and spirits—though it is not so long since she has seen you, I suppose?”
“Kate Crediton?” said John, haughtily.
“I beg your pardon: my sisters are intimate with her, you know, and I hear her called so fifty times in a day—one falls into it without knowing. Hang it! since you will have it, Mitford, Miss Crediton did speak to me before I left. She heard I was coming to Camelford, and she came to me the night before—last night, in fact—and told me you were here alone, and she was uneasy about you. I wish anybody was uneasy about me. She wanted to know if you were lonely, if you were unhappy—half a hundred things. I hope you don’t object to her anxiety. I assure you it conveyed a very delightful idea of your good fortune to me.”
“Whatever Miss Crediton chose to say must have been like herself,” cried John, trembling with sudden passion, “and no doubt she thought you were a very proper ambassador. But you must be aware, Huntley, that ladies judge very differently on these points from men. If you please we will not go further into that question.”
“It was not I who began it, I am sure,” said Fred; and another pause ensued, during which John sat with lowering brows, and an expression no one had ever seen on his face before. “Look here, Mitford,” said Fred, suddenly, “don’t go and vex yourself for nothing. If any indiscretion of mine should make dispeace between you——”
“Pray don’t think for a moment that such a thing is likely to happen,” said John.
“Well—well—if I am too presumptuous in supposing anything I say to be likely to move you;” Huntley went on, with a restrained smile—“but you really must not do Miss Crediton injustice through any clumsiness of mine. It came about in the most natural way. She was afraid there had been some little sparring between her father and yourself, and was anxious, as in her position it was so natural to be——”
“Exactly,” said John. “Are you on your way home now, or are you going back to Fernwood? I should ask you to take a little parcel for me if you were likely to be near Fanshawe. How are the birds? I don’t suppose I shall do them much harm this year.”