After all, it was Ethel who first broke the silence. She advanced a little way and held out her hand with a smile which to Everard seemed little less than heavenly. “And is it really you, Mr. Lisle?” she said. “I could scarcely believe at first that my eyes were not playing me false. Withington Chase was the place, was it not, to which you told me you had come when—when I saw you last? But I only heard the name once, and that must be my excuse for having forgotten it. In any case, I am very glad to meet you again. It is only three weeks since I left dear St. Oswyth’s, and yet when I look back it seems like an age.”
By this time Lisle had hold of her hand, which he seemed in no hurry to release.
“Yes, this is my home, Miss Ethel, and has been ever since I left my father’s roof. Not the Chase itself, mind you,” he smilingly added, “but a much humbler domicile just beyond the park. Sir Gilbert and my father were at the same college somewhere about half a century ago, so when the former found himself in want of an assistant—a sort of half secretary and half bailiff—he called to mind the fact that the man whose good fortune it had been in years gone by to save his life, and whom he had never quite lost sight of since, had a son, and offered him the post. And now that I have told you so much about myself, allow me to ask, in the name of all that’s wonderful, how I happen to find you here?”
“Oh, there’s nothing in the least wonderful about that,” replied Ethel, who by this time had regained possession of her hand. “I am here as companion, for the time being, to Lady Pell, who is a relative of Sir Gilbert. Of course you have heard that my dear aunts have lost the greater part of their fortune and have been compelled to leave their old home?” Everard nodded. “Well, through Lady Pell, my aunts obtained a tenant for Vale View House in the person of her stepdaughter, and that was how she and they became acquainted. Her companion being away on account of illness, I am filling the position pro tem.”
“I hope Lady Pell intends making a long stay at the Chase.”
“She came, intending to stay only a couple of days, but, as the result of a letter she received this morning, it seems not unlikely that her visit will be prolonged.”
“With all my heart I hope it may,” said Everard. There was a fervour in his voice, and a fire in his eyes, which brought back the glow to Ethel’s cheeks and recalled, as though they related to an event of yesterday, every word and look of Lisle at that interview on her birthday, when he pleaded his suit with so much earnestness, but pleaded in vain. Well, Everard Lisle was not like some people.
Her heart whispered to her: “He loves you still. You are as dear to him at this moment as you ever were.”
She did not speak, but turned away her head and gazed across the park.
“And now I must leave you—for the present,” said Everard. “I have my morning’s work to attend to, and Sir Gilbert likes punctuality in others if he does not always practise it himself. I often lunch and dine at the Chase. Let us hope that the presence of Lady Pell will not have the effect of depriving me of a privilege which I never valued so highly as I do at this moment.”