But almost before she had finished the last line, she was startled by her brother’s abrupt entrance.
“Percy! oh, I did not hear you,” she faltered, and she turned a little pale, and her heart began to beat more quickly. It was foolish of her, but she never heard Percy’s step without listening involuntarily for the quick light tread that used to follow it, but that never came now.
“You are alone,” he said, quickly, with a keen glance round the room. “Well, it is best because I wanted to speak to you. Have you heard from Miss Davenport lately, Fern?”
“Yes,” she stammered, raising her soft eyes to his face with a pitying expression; “I had a letter the other day.”
“Well,” impatiently, “does she say when they are coming back?”
“In another fortnight—at least they mean to start then;” and there she stopped, and looked at him very piteously. “How I wish mother would come; she will not be very long, and—and I would rather that you heard it from her.”
“Do you mean that you have anything special to tell me?” he asked, struck by her manner.
“Oh, I wish you had not asked me,” she returned, clasping her hands; “you are so fond of Crystal, and it will make you terribly unhappy; but mother said we ought to tell you, Percy, dear. There was never any hope for you—you know she always told you so; and now Crystal is married.”
“Married!” he almost shouted, and his handsome young face seemed to grow sharp and pale. “Married! Pshaw! you are jesting, Fern.”
“Dear Percy,” she answered, gently, “do you think I would jest with you on such a subject? Indeed—indeed it is true. She was married some ten days ago to Mr. Ferrers, the blind clergyman, who was staying at Belgrave House. He had come there to look for her. He had known her from a child, and they had long loved each other.”