“Have you seen him again lately?”
“Not for a long, long time, Mildred; but I love him still, despite his inconstancy, and I should like to know something about him.”
“Emmeline,” said Mildred, regarding her fixedly, “you are not referring to my brother Chetwynd?”
“To whom else could I refer?” was the reply. Mildred uttered an exclamation of surprise.
“I perfectly remember Chetwynd speaking of you in rapturous terms,” she said, “and telling me he had had a strong flirtation with you in the gallery at Brackley Hall, but I had no idea you were at all serious on the occasion. Oh, what a chance of happiness he has missed! Had he been fortunate enough to possess you, how different would have been his life!”
“I loved him!” said Emmeline, with emotion; “and I don't believe Teresa Mildmay ever did.”
“I entirely agree with you,” remarked Mildred. “I have listened to your recital with the deepest interest, dearest Emmeline, and I wish I could give you a good account of Chetwynd, but I really cannot. I saw him the other day, but only for a few minutes.”
“At Ouselcroft?” inquired Emmeline, eagerly.
“Yes. He came there quite unexpectedly, and left immediately.”
“I am afraid his hasty departure doesn't look as if he had made up his quarrel with Mrs. Calverley.”