“No, I am going away,” said she, watching his face for the effect of her words, and not disclosing the fact that neither she nor her aunt had been invited.
“Going away!” echoed he, in dismay. “But where? Forgive me, but I thought you said you had only just come to Hereford.”
“I am going to stay with my uncle at Crishowell Vicarage while my aunt goes away for some months; she has been ill, and the doctor ordered it.”
“Oh, at Crishowell,” he said, much relieved. “That is not very far; I—I go to Crishowell sometimes. I did not know that Mr. Lewis was your uncle.”
“He married my aunt’s sister,” said Isoline, “but she is dead. It will be very dull there.”
“If I have to go to Crishowell on any business—or anything, do you think he will allow me to pay my respects to you—and to him, of course?”
“He might,” she answered, looking under her eyelashes. “At any rate, I will ask him.”
“Thank you, thank you,” said Harry fervently.
Isoline was delighted. The prospect of five or six months in the unvaried society of her uncle had not been inspiring; she only remembered him as an unnecessarily elderly person who had once heard her catechism in her youth and been dissatisfied with the recital. It was hardly to be supposed that a young girl, full of spirits and eager for life, could look forward to it, especially one who had grown up in the atmosphere of small towns and knew nothing of country pleasures. But the horizon brightened.