“Yes.”
“All the time?”
“Pretty nearly.”
“And he didn't try to find out who or what you were?”
“He asked a great deal about South Bradfield.”
“Of course, that was where he thought you had always belonged.” Mrs. Erwin lay quiescent for a while, in apparent uncertainty as to how she should next attack the subject. “How did you first meet?”
Lydia began with the scene on Lucas Wharf, and little by little told the whole story up to the moment of their parting at Trieste. There were lapses and pauses in the story, which her aunt was never at a loss to fill aright. At the end she said, “If it were not for his promising to come here and see you, I should say Mr. Staniford had been flirting, and as it is he may not regard it as anything more than flirtation. Of course, there was his being jealous of Mr. Dunham and Mr. Hicks, as he certainly was; and his wanting to explain about that lady at Messina—yes, that looked peculiar; but he may not have meant anything by it. His parting so at Trieste with you, that might be either because he was embarrassed at its having got to be such a serious thing, or because he really felt badly. Lydia,” she asked at last, “what made you think he cared for you?”
“I don't know,” said the girl; her voice had sunk to a husky whisper. “I didn't believe it till he said he wanted me to be his—conscience, and tried to make me say he was good, and—”
“That's a certain kind of man's way of flirting. It may mean nothing at all. I could tell in an instant, if I saw him.”
“He said he would be here this afternoon,” murmured Lydia, tremulously.