"I say, who's that?" he exclaimed, under his breath.
And Lionel had been startled too; for he had convinced himself ere he came that Honnor Cunyngham was certain to be in Scotland. But there she was, as distinguished-looking, as self-possessed as ever; her glance direct and simple and calm, though she seemed to hesitate for a moment as if seeking for some one whom she might know in the crowd. From the fact of her not having been announced, Lionel guessed that she was staying in the house; perhaps, indeed, she had been in the drawing-room before. He hardly knew what to do. He forgot to answer his friend's question. If dinner were to be happily announced now, would it not save her from some embarrassment if he and she could go in their separate ways without meeting? and thereafter he could leave without returning to the drawing-room. Yet, if she were staying in the house, she must have known that he was coming?
All this swift consideration was the work of a single second; the next second Miss Honnor's eyes had fallen upon the young man; and immediately and in the most natural way in the world she came across the room to him. It is true that there was a slight touch of color visible on the gracious forehead when she offered him her hand; but there was no other sign of self-consciousness; and she said, quite quietly and simply,
"It is some time since we have met, Mr. Moore; but, of course, I notice your name in the papers frequently."
"I hardly expected to see you here to-night," he said, in reply. "I thought you would be off to Scotland for the salmon-fishing."
"I go to-morrow night," she made answer.
At the same moment Lord Rockminster came up, holding a bit of folded paper furtively in his hand; the faithful brother looked perplexed, for he had to remember the names of these various strangers; but here at least were two whom he did know.
"Mr. Moore, will you take Miss Cunyngham in to dinner?" he murmured, as he went by; so that Lionel found there would have been no escape for him in any case. But now that the first little awkwardness of their meeting was over, there was nothing else. Miss Cunyngham spoke to him quite pleasantly and naturally—though she did not meet his eyes much. Meantime dinner was announced, and Lord Rockminster led the way with a trim little elderly lady whom Lionel afterwards discovered to be (for she told him as much) the London correspondent
of a famous Parisian journal devoted to fashions and the beau monde.
And here he was, seated side by side with Honnor Cunyngham, talking to her, listening to her, and with no sort of perturbation whatever. He began to ask himself whether he had ever been in love with her—whether he had not rather been in love with her way of life and its surroundings. He was thinking not so much of her as her departure on the morrow, and the scenes that lay beyond. Why had he not £10,000 a year—£5000—nay, £1000 a year—and freedom? Why could he not warm his soul with the consciousness that the salmon-rods were all packed and waiting in the hall; that new casting-lines had been put in the fly-book; that only the short drive up to Euston and a single black night lay between him and all the wide wonder of the world that would open out thereafter? Forth from the darkness into a whiter light—a larger day—a sweeter air; for now we are among the russet beech-hedges, the deep-green pines, the purple hills touched here and there with snow; and the far-stretching landscape is shining in the morning sun; and the peewits are wheeling hither and thither in the blue. Then we are thundering through rocky chasms and watching the roaring brown torrent beneath; or panting or struggling away up the lonely altitudes of Drumouchter; and again merrily racing and chasing down into the spacious valley of the Spey. And what for the end?—the long, still strath after leaving Invershin—the penetration into the more secret solitudes—the peaks of Coulmore and Suilven in the west—and here the Aivron making a murmuring music over its golden gravel! There is a smell of peat in the air; there are children's voices about the keepers' cottages; and here is the handsome old Robert, rejoiced that the year has opened again and Miss Honnor come back! "Well, Robert, you must come in and have a dram, and I will show you the tackle I've brought with me." "I am not wishing for a dram, Miss Honnor, so much as I am glad to see you back again, ay, and looking so well!"