"Perhaps—I could see Miss Aubrey for a moment?" inquired Gammon, with as matter-of-fact an air as he could assume.
"Certainly, sir—she is in the drawing-room. Will you walk up-stairs?" said the girl, who of course knew him well, as not an infrequent visitor at the house. So she led the way up-stairs, he following, and with somewhat fading color.
"Mr. Gammon!" he presently heard, as he stood on the landing, echoed in the rich and soft voice of Miss Aubrey, who seemed to speak in a tone of great surprise, in answer to the servant's announcement. "Why, Fanny, did you not say that neither your master nor mistress was at home?" Gammon next heard hastily asked in a lower tone by Miss Aubrey, and his countenance fell a little; for there was a tone of displeasure, or chagrin, in her voice, especially as she added, "You should have said that I was engaged! However, show him in, Fanny;" and the next moment Mr. Gammon found himself bowing his way towards Miss Aubrey, with whom, for the first time in his life, he found himself alone.
She was sitting writing at her desk, before which stood, in a small flower-glass, a beautiful moss-rose. There was a little air of negligence in the arrangement of her hair, and her light morning costume displayed her figure to infinite advantage. There was really something inexpressibly lovely in her whole appearance, seen, though she was, at that moment, by Gammon, through the faint mist of displeasure which she had thrown around herself.
"Good-morning, Mr. Gammon," she commenced, rising a little from her chair; and sinking again into it, slightly turned it towards him, gazing at him with some curiosity.
"May I venture to hope, madam, that I am not intruding upon you?" said he, seating himself in the chair nearest to him.
"My brother always leaves at half-past nine; is he not at the Temple to-day, Mr. Gammon?" she added a little eagerly—for the first time observing something unusual in the expression of his countenance.
"I really don't know—madam,—in fact, I have not been there to-day; I thought it better, perhaps"——He paused for a second.
"I sincerely trust, Mr. Gammon," interrupted Miss Aubrey, slightly changing color, and looking with great anxiety at her visitor—"that nothing unpleasant—nothing unfortunate—has happened: do, pray, Mr. Gammon!" she continued earnestly, turning her chair full towards him—"for Heaven's sake, tell me!"
"I assure you, madam, upon my honor, that nothing whatever unpleasant has happened, that I know of, since last we met."