“Now tell me, did Camilla make any difficulties about letting you go? Was she much upset when my letter came?”
The attitude of Mrs. Tancred’s mind towards her own departure had differed so widely from the one with which she was thus credited that even the ready Bonnybell had to hesitate a second or two before adjusting her answer.
“I hope she missed me a little, but she was quite determined not to stand in my light.”
“H’m! She thought it was to your advantage that you should come back to me?”
“How could she think anything else?”
Felicity looked flattered, yet a faint shade of doubt clouded the complacency of her good-humoured countenance. Former experiences of her sister-in-law did not quite tally with the admiring estimate thus implied.
“She thought, too, that the life at Stillington was too quiet for a girl, and that a little London would be good for me,” resumed Bonnybell, perceiving the infant incredulity, and meeting it with less art than she would have done had more leisure been given her.
Lady Bletchley lifted her eyebrows. “Commend me to the inconsistency of a woman who piques herself upon being nothing if not consistent! Camilla has always given me to understand that I am imperilling my soul by living in such a sink of iniquity.”
The incredulity of Felicity’s tone was so decidedly increased that Bonnybell felt she was making fausse route.
“Perhaps I am mistaken, and that it was Mr. Tancred who said that London would be good for me.”