In consequence of Edna’s temporary indisposition, which made her languid in the morning, the family breakfast was unusually late, and was rarely ready before ten. It was Bessie’s habit, therefore, to go out, after an early cup of cocoa, for an hour’s solitary walk; she enjoyed this more than any other part of the day. The Parade was almost deserted at the time, and she met few people. She loved to stroll down to the beach and watch the waves rolling on the shore; the cold, fresh air invigorated her, and her old color returned. Her mother would have been at rest about her if she could have seen the girl’s strong, elastic step, or noticed how the sea breezes had brought back her fresh color. Bessie would return from these morning walks with refreshed spirits and vigorous, youthful appetite that Edna good-naturedly quizzed.
“You would be hungry, too, if you had swallowed those delicious sea breezes,” Bessie would answer, nothing daunted by these remarks, and she persevered in these early strolls.
The morning after their little conversation about Richard, Bessie went out as usual. There had been rain during the night, and the seats on the Parade were soaking, but the sun was shining now, and the little pools in the road were sparkling in the warm sunlight, and the sea looked clear and blue.
“What a delicious morning,” thought Bessie, as she walked on briskly. “There is rather a strong wind, though. Oh, that gentleman has lost his hat!” The gentleman in question had been leaning on the railings, looking down on some boys playing on the shingle; but as his hat took to itself wings, and rolled playfully down the Parade, after the manner of hats, he followed it in quick pursuit. Happily, it rolled almost to Bessie’s feet, and she captured it.
“Thank you so much,” observed the young man, gratefully; but as Bessie held it to him with a smile, they mutually started, and a simultaneous exclamation rose to their lips.
“Mr. Sinclair!”
“Miss Lambert!” and then rather awkwardly they shook hands. “Who would have thought of seeing you here?” went on Mr. Sinclair, rather nervously, as he brushed the wet from his hat. “But of course one meets every one at Brighton, so I ought not to be surprised. I only came down last night, and I have already exchanged greetings with half a dozen acquaintances. Have you been here long?”
“About ten days. I am staying with the Sefton’s at Glenyan Mansions. Mrs. Sefton and Edna are both here.”
“Edna here?” and then he bit his lip, and a dark flush crossed his face. “I hope Miss Sefton is quite well,” he continued coldly.
“Indeed she is not,” returned Bessie bluntly. But this sudden encounter had taken her by surprise, and she hardly knew what she was saying. “She is very far from well. Oh, quite ill, I should say; though she will have it that there is nothing the matter. But she is so changed that she is hardly like the same girl. Oh, no; she is perfectly different; not like Edna at all, and——”