“But it does not matter,” she continued hurriedly, and before he could answer, “I am obliged to you, but Mrs. Gilson is quite able to take care of me.”
“And yet I came very opportunely—just now,” he said. “I am glad I came so opportunely.”
Reminded of the insolence to which her loneliness had exposed her, Henrietta felt her cheek grow hot again.
“Oh,” she said, “I did not need you! But I thought you said you brought a letter?”
“I have a letter. But I beg leave—to postpone its delivery for a day or two.”
“How?” in astonishment. “If it is for me?”
“By Captain Clyne’s directions,” he answered.
She stopped short and faced him, rebellion in her eyes.
“Then why,” she said proudly, “seek me out now if this letter is not to be delivered at once?”
“That, too, is by his order,” Mr. Sutton explained in the same tone. “And pardon me for saying,” he continued, with a meaning cough, “that I have seen enough to be assured of Captain Clyne’s forethought. Apart from which, in Lancashire, at any rate, the times are so troubled, the roads so unsafe, the common people so outrageous, that for a young lady to walk out alone is not safe.”