She had been thinking about me at intervals (she wrote) all through the rest of the day; and, kindly as I had received her, she was conscious of being the object of doubts on my part which her visit had failed to remove. Might she ask leave to call on me, in the hope of improving her position in my estimation? An appointment followed for the next day.
What can she have to say to me which she has not already said? Is it anything about Philip, I wonder?
CHAPTER LIV. HELENA’S DIARY RESUMED.
At our interview of the next day, Mrs. Tenbruggen’s capacity for self-reform appeared under a new aspect. She dropped all familiarity with me, and she stated the object of her visit without a superfluous word of explanation or apology.
I thought this a remarkable effort for a woman; and I recognized the merit of it by leaving the lion’s share of the talk to my visitor. In these terms she opened her business with me:
“Has Mr. Philip Dunboyne told you why he went to London?”
“He made a commonplace excuse,” I answered. “Business, he said, took him to London. I know no more.”
“You have a fair prospect of happiness, Miss Helena, when you are married—your future husband is evidently afraid of you. I am not afraid of you; and I shall confide to your private ear something which you have an interest in knowing. The business which took young Mr. Dunboyne to London was to consult a competent person, on a matter concerning himself. The competent person is the sagacious (not to say sly) old gentleman—whom we used to call the Governor. You know him, I believe?”
“Yes. But I am at a loss to imagine why Philip should have consulted him.”