“What is the reason, then?”
“That, my sweet girl, is one of the things that we have got to find out.”
.......
The post of this morning brought a letter from my sister. We were to expect her return by the next day’s train. This was good news. Philip and I might stand in need of clever Helena’s help, and we might be sure of getting it now.
In writing to Philip, I had asked him to let me hear how papa and he had got on at the hotel. I won’t say how often I consulted my watch, or how often I looked out of the window for a man with a letter in his hand. It will be better to get on at once to the discouraging end of it, when the report of the interview reached me at last. Twice Philip had attempted to ask for my hand in marriage—and twice my father had “deliberately, obstinately” (Philip’s own words) changed the subject. Even this was not all. As if he was determined to show that Miss Jillgall was perfectly right, and I perfectly wrong, papa (civil to Philip as long as he did not talk of Me) had asked him to dine with us, and Philip had accepted the invitation!
What were we to think of it? What were we to do?
I wrote back to my dear love (so cruelly used) to tell him that Helena was expected to return on the next day, and that her opinion would be of the greatest value to both of us. In a postscript I mentioned the hour at which we were going to the station to meet my sister. When I say “we,” I mean Miss Jillgall as well as myself.
.......
We found him waiting for us at the railway. I am afraid he resented papa’s incomprehensible resolution not to give him a hearing. He was silent and sullen. I could not conceal that to see this state of feeling distressed me. He showed how truly he deserved to be loved—he begged my pardon, and he became his own sweet self again directly. I am more determined to marry him than ever.
When the train entered the station, all the carriages were full. I went one way, thinking I had seen Helena. Miss Jillgall went the other way, under the same impression. Philip was a little way behind me.