‘Mr Archie Ridsdale’s affair is by no means a fait accompli,’ continued her ladyship; ‘and we shall see what we shall see in the course of the next few hours.’ She nodded her head with an air of mystery and tried to look oracular.
Presently Bella pleaded a headache and escaped to her own room.
Clarice was at the station at least twenty minutes before the train by which Archie was to travel could by any possibility arrive. It showed great remissness on the part of the railway people, considering how anxious she was for her sweetheart’s arrival, that this very train should be five minutes and fourteen seconds late. Such gross disregard of the feelings of young ladies in love ought to be severely dealt with.
At length the train steamed slowly in, with Archie’s head and half his long body protruding from the window, to the annoyance of every other passenger in the compartment. He was out of the train before any one else, and as it glided slowly forward before coming to a stand, those inside were favoured with a sort of panoramic glimpse of a very pretty girl being seized, hugged, and unblushingly kissed by a young fellow, to whom, at that moment, the code of small social proprieties was evidently a dead letter.
‘What about your father?’ asked Clarice as soon as she had recovered her breath in some measure and had given a tug or two to her disarranged attire.
‘What about him?’ queried Archie, who was looking after his portmanteau.
‘Of course he has not come down by this train, or you would have travelled together. But I suppose you know he’s expected at the Palatine to-night—at least so Mr Etheridge told me.’
‘Etheridge! is he here?’
‘Yes; didn’t you know? He reached here a few hours after you left for London. He brought a letter for you from your father all the way from Spa.’