“I have seen too much of the revers de la médaille to be much excited about this,” she said; but, if she was outwardly calm, her feelings were certainly aroused, for her strange eyes had a far-away look, and the color came and went in her cheek.
Our friend seemed almost crestfallen; we thought he would have been elated. Presently she said to him, giving him the bracelets:
“You must take these to Bruges, and I think you had better take me, too.”
He stared silently at her. Just then the bell began to ring for the midnight Mass. What followed Miss Houghton told us herself.
The guests hurried to the chapel, rather glad to get rid of their involuntary embarrassment. Those two remained behind alone. She was the first to speak.
“I think you are sorry you have found me.”
“Yes,” he answered slowly, “sorry to find it is you: Miss Houghton was poor, and Miss Duncombe is an heiress.”
“What matter! If you like, Miss Duncombe will give up the fortune, or, if you want it, she will give it to you.”
He looked offended and puzzled.
“You do not understand me,” she said, half laughing: “Miss Duncombe will let you settle everything for her, and say anything you like to Miss Houghton.”