“Never. She has been living abroad; and I have not seen her myself since we were both young people.”
My excellent innocent father! Not the faintest idea of what I had been thinking of was in his mind. Little did he suspect how welcome was the relief that he had afforded to his daughter’s wicked doubts of him. But he had not said a word yet about his cousin’s personal appearance. There might be remains of good looks which the housemaid was too stupid to discover.
“After the long interval that has passed since you met,” I said, “I suppose she has become an old woman?”
“No, my dear. Let us say, a middle-aged woman.”
“Perhaps she is still an attractive person?”
He smiled. “I am afraid, Helena, that would never have been a very accurate description of her.”
I now knew all that I wanted to know about this alarming person, excepting one last morsel of information which my father had strangely forgotten.
“We have been talking about the lady for some time,” I said; “and you have not yet told me her name.”
Father looked a little embarrassed “It’s not a very pretty name,” he answered. “My cousin, my unfortunate cousin, is—Miss Jillgall.”
I burst out with such a loud “Oh!” that he laughed. I caught the infection, and laughed louder still. Bless Miss Jillgall! The interview promised to become an easy one for both of us, thanks to her name. I was in good spirits, and I made no attempt to restrain them. “The next time Miss Jillgall honors you with a visit,” I said, “you must give me an opportunity of being presented to her.”