‘I should like,’ he said, ‘to keep the house in my own hands. My sister is coming to join me presently.’
‘But you couldn’t stay here—at your age, and getting on so well in your profession.’
‘Oh, no! But it used to be a dream of mine to keep it up in the old way. Would it be very silly? Susie could come when she pleased, and my mother if she pleased. It would be something to think of and come back to.’
‘But then you would require to furnish it and keep some one in it.’
John looked at Elly, and she at him. It was almost the first time that their glances had met. There was a flash of private communication, confidential, charged with intelligence: and then over both the young faces there came something like a flame, a flush of recollection and emotion. That had been their last interview: and how much there was in it which it was confusing to recall now.
‘What are you looking at each other for, you two?’
‘You know, Aunt Mary!’ It was the first time Elly had spoken. ‘The two dear old chairs. Jack, they have been in my room ever since. Often and often I have wondered if they knew. I have taken such care of them. When you take them back, it will seem like losing old friends.’
‘Oh! yes, I remember,’ said Mrs. Egerton. She looked from one to another with a slightly roused look; perhaps she had not been alarmed before. She saw a little excitement in both faces, an unusual colour and light in their eyes, which showed more feeling than was at all necessary. And in the atmosphere altogether there was a sort of electricity, something that was different from the everyday calm.
The watchful family guardian was startled. She had not thought there was any danger. When Percy had fumed and indulged in whatever is the clerical substitute for swearing, and declared that he would not allow any nonsense between that fellow and Elly, his aunt had put him down with calm decision, and an assurance that nothing of the kind was possible. That look produced a change as rapid as itself in Mrs. Egerton’s frame of mind.
‘Do you know,’ she said, with no perceptible change from the maternal kindness of her previous tone, ‘I think it would be rather a silly thing. It would bind you to this little place quite out of the way, with which you have, so to speak, no family connection, for none of your people have belonged here; and you would entail upon yourself a considerable expense, for you can’t furnish a house with two old chairs, whatever may be their associations. I don’t think I would do it, if I were you.’