At the mention of Geoffrey’s name Celia looked up with interest.
“Have you heard from him lately?” she asked.
“Yes. We had a letter this morning. Dick Stannard has joined him in Sydney, and they both expect to be home for Christmas. That will be nice, won’t it? Geoff writes a good deal about a Miss Thornton and her mother, who will be coming to England the same time as themselves. Do you know, I shouldn’t be surprised if he were engaged to her, although he doesn’t actually say so. I should like to see Geoff married to a nice girl, wouldn’t you, Cely?”
“Ye—es,” answered Celia, mechanically, the colour suddenly leaving her cheeks.
Geoffrey Milnes engaged! She had never thought of that. Yet why should he not think of marrying, just as she herself had done? Why should the thought of his possible marriage cause her heart to sink like a leaden weight? Why should it? But it did.
Since her engagement with David Salmon had been broken off, she had allowed her mind to dwell once more on her old-time friendship with Dr. Milnes. She was looking forward with almost feverish eagerness to his return, and tried to imagine the joy of their meeting. But, if he came back as the lover or husband of some one else! She could scarcely bear to think of it.
Gladys rattled on with her inexhaustible stock of light chatter, not noticing her friend’s sudden pensiveness. She could talk of nothing else but the ball, and favoured Enid Wilton—who was also to be a guest—with a full account of the people who would be there, whilst Celia sat quite quiet, thinking of Miss Thornton.
When the eventful day arrived, Enid was confined to her room with a cold. Her going to the ball was quite out of the question, and in consequence thereof, Celia refused to go either. In vain did Enid protest, and beg her friend not to forego her amusement for her sake. Celia would not be persuaded, and declared that she was not at all anxious to go. She had been to so many dances during the “season” that she had outgrown her liking for them.
As soon as her decision was made, she went downstairs to inform her brother. She found him in the studio, putting the finishing touches to the paintings for the Duke of Downshire’s chapel, prior to their being despatched the following day. There were five of them altogether, all representing incidents of Gospel history.
“I was just thinking of sending an invitation to Mendel’s people to come and have a private view,” he said facetiously. “Do you think they would accept it, Celia?”