'Dear old Cyril!' he observed, half aloud; 'I am awfully glad for his sake; but it always seemed to me as though Miss Ross were a cut above us. If only I were sure that he was glad, too.'
And here a troubled look crossed the boy's face; he was thinking of the story Captain Burnett had told him yesterday, and of the strange dazed look in Michael's eyes: 'And not a man of them flinched; for they were Englishmen, and Englishmen know how to die.' 'Ah, and to live, too!' thought Kester, as he roused himself at last and sat down to his Greek.
When Audrey heard that Michael was really coming home, she felt as though she had nothing more to wish. She had read his letter at least a dozen times; its brotherly tenderness and anxiety for her welfare had touched her to the heart.
'I am very grateful for your confidence,' he wrote, after a few earnest wishes for her happiness. 'I would like, if it were possible, to keep my old place as Mentor—we have always been such friends, dear, such true and trusty comrades; and I do not think that Mr. Blake will object to my cousinly surveillance. I could not afford to lose you out of my life, Audrey; so let me subscribe myself, now and for ever, your faithful friend and brother—Michael.'
Audrey sighed gently as she put down the letter; it touched, but it did not completely satisfy her. Michael had not said he was glad to hear of her engagement. He was truthful almost to a fault. The conventional falsehoods that other men uttered were never on his lips. If he could not approve, he would take refuge in silence. 'Silence never damages a man's character,' he was fond of saying; but many people found this oppressive. Audrey had secretly longed for some such word of approval. If Michael had only told her that he applauded her courage in marrying a poor man, if he had praised her unworldliness, she would have been utterly content; but the letter that Michael had written with a breaking heart held no such comfort for her. He had accepted her decision without a word, and though his message of congratulation to Cyril was all that could be wished, there was no further allusion to him.
'Michael thinks I have been rash,' she said to herself a little sorrowfully. 'I suppose he, too, considers that Cyril is rather too young. If Michael were only on our side, I should not care what the rest of the world thinks;' and then she folded up the letter.
But on the day Michael was expected her face was so radiant that Cyril pretended to be jealous. 'You are very fond of your cousin,' he observed as he followed her to the window, where she was watching the clouds a little anxiously.
Audrey heard him rather absently. She was thinking that the dampness might bring on Michael's neuralgia, and that, if he had only named his train, the carriage might have been sent for him—indeed, she would have driven out herself to meet him and Kester. 'Oh yes,' she rejoined; 'I have missed him terribly all this time. Nothing is right without Michael——' and as Cyril looked a little surprised at this, she added quickly: 'He is like my own brother, Cyril, so it is perfectly natural, you see; ever since his illness he has been one of us.' And as Cyril professed himself satisfied with this explanation, there was nothing more said, and Audrey went up to put the finishing touches to Michael's rooms, and to arrange the chrysanthemums and coloured leaves in the big Indian jars. If she had only known how Michael would shudder at the sight of these chrysanthemums! He had taken a dislike to the flowers ever since Booty had covered his coat-sleeve with golden-brown petals.
After all, Michael came before he was expected. Audrey was sitting chatting to her mother in the twilight, when they heard the hall door open and close, and the next moment they saw Michael standing on the threshold looking at them.
'My dear Michael!' exclaimed Mrs. Ross; but Audrey had already crossed the room: both her hands were in Michael's, and he was looking at her with his old kind smile, though he did not say a word; but Audrey did not seem to notice his silence.