Sir Frederick became animated in a moment. ‘I had a letter from the dear boy by last mail. He wrote in excellent spirits. I expect him over on leave in the course of the autumn, when I shall take the liberty of introducing him to my friends at Rosemount.’
‘I shall not fail to hold you to your promise.’
‘And now to find the Captain.’
‘The sun is rather oppressive. Had I not better send a servant?’
‘Thanks; no. I shall have no difficulty in finding him. Au revoir.’ And with a smile and a bow, the Baronet made his exit. On reaching the veranda, he paused to put up his umbrella, as a protection from the sun, and then went gingerly on his way.
‘It is not Charles, but Laura, whom he has come to see,’ mused Mrs Bowood as her eyes followed the Baronet. ‘There’s something in his manner which makes me feel almost sure that he will propose before the day is over; but now that Mr Boyd has put in an appearance, I am afraid Sir Frederick’s chance is a very poor one.—By-the-bye, why did Laura wear those jewels last night, which, as I have heard her say more than once, she has never worn since before her marriage? Well, well; I suppose that neither sentiment nor romance is quite dead, even when people can look back upon their thirtieth birthday.’
Mrs Bowood took up her pen again; but at that moment a servant entered the room. ‘Beg pardon, ma’am, but here’s a man come to mend the drawing-room lamp; and the fishmonger is waiting to see you; and there’s a young gent with spectacles and long hair come to tune the pianos.’
‘Dear, dear! I shall have to finish my letter after luncheon, I suppose.—I will come at once, Sparks. But I gave no instructions to any one about tuning the pianos.’
‘Perhaps the Captain may have sent the young man, ma’am.’
‘Perhaps so; but he doesn’t generally interfere in such matters.’