‘I did not think he had been so shy,’ she said. ‘He wanted, I suppose, to have you all to himself, and not to lose his time making visits. How long is he to stay?’
Edith and Minnie looked at each other. The question had already been discussed between their mother and themselves whether Bertie would be asked to dinner, or whether, indeed, they might not all be asked, with the addition of Edith’s betrothed, who was visiting also at the Rectory. They all thought it would be a right thing for Kate to do; and, of course, as Mrs. Anderson was there, it would be so easy, and in every way so nice. They looked at each other, accordingly, with a little consciousness.
‘He is to stay till Monday, I think,’ said Edith; ‘or perhaps we might coax him to give us another day, if——’ She was going to say if there was any reason, but that seemed a hint too plain.
‘That is not a very long visit,’ said Kate. And then, without a hint of a dinner-party, she plunged into the parish, that admirable ground of escape in all difficulties.
They had got into the very depths of charities, and coals, and saving-clubs, when Mrs. Hardwick rose.
‘We are such a large party, we must not inflict ourselves upon you too long,’ said Mrs. Hardwick. She, too, was a little disappointed that there was not a word about a dinner. She thought Mrs. Anderson should have known what her duty was in the circumstances, and should have given her niece a hint; ‘but I hope we shall all meet again before my son goes away.’
And then there was a second shaking of hands. When all was over, and the party were moving off, Kate turned to Bertie, who was last.
‘You have not taken leave of Ombra,’ she said, looking full at him.
He coloured to his hair; he made her a confused bow, and hurried into the room where Ombra was. Kate, with a sternness which was very strange to her, watched the two figures against the light. Ombra did not move. She spoke to him apparently without even looking up from her letter. A dozen words or so—no more. Then there came a sudden cry from the other door, by which the mother and daughters were going ‘Oh! we have forgotten Miss Anderson!’ and the whole stream flowed back.
‘Indeed, it is Ombra’s fault; but she was writing for the post,’ exclaimed her mother, calling to her.