“To Guildford? No, my dear. Something has occurred, but not to worry me. It is something that will make me very happy, and I trust that it will make you very happy to hear it. I rely on your sympathy and Walter’s to support me.” Florence was not very curious. Aunt Anne had always so much earnestness at her command, and was very prodigal of it. Besides, it did not seem likely that anything important had happened; some trifling pleasure or vexation, probably; nothing more.
At last the little meal was finished, the things pushed through the buttery-hatch, the crumbs swept off the cloth by Jane, who seemed to linger in a manner that Mrs. Baines in her own mind felt to be wholly reprehensible and wanting in respect towards her superiors. But the cloth was folded and put away at last, the buttery-hatch closed, the fire adjusted, and the door shut. Aunt Anne gave a sigh of relief, then throwing her cloak back over the chair, she rose and stood irresolute on the hearth-rug. Florence went towards her.
“Have you been anywhere by train?” she asked.
“No, my love. I went to the station to meet some one.” She trembled with excitement while she spoke. Florence noticed it with wonder.
“What is it, Aunt Anne?” she asked gently.
The old lady stretched out her two thin hands, and suddenly dropped her head for a moment on Florence’s shoulder; but she raised it quickly, and evidently struggled to be calm.
“My darling,” she said, “I know you will sympathize with me, I know your loving heart. I knew it the first day I saw you, when you were at Rottingdean, and stood under the pear-tree with your dear Walter——”
“Yes, oh yes, dear——” Florence had so often heard of that pear-tree. But what could it have to do with the present situation?
—“I shall never forget the picture you two made,” the old lady went on, not heeding the interruption; “I knew all that was in your dear heart then, just as I feel that you will understand all that is in mine now.” Her face was flushed, her eyes were almost bright, and there were tears in them; the left one winked tremulously.
Florence looked at her in amazement. “What is it, Aunt Anne? Do tell me; tell me at once, dear?” she said entreatingly. “And where you have been, so late and in the dark.” For a moment Aunt Anne hesitated, then, with a gasp and a strong effort to be calm and dignified, she raised her head and spoke.