“Oh, Mrs. Holt,” exclaimed Honora; “how many interesting people you see!”
“Exactly, my dear. And I thought that, in addition to the fact that I have grown very fond of you, you would be very useful to me here, and that a summer with me might not be without its advantages. As your aunt will have you until you are married, which, I may say, without denying your attractions, is likely to be for some time, I intend to write to her to-night—with your consent—and ask her to allow you to remain with me all summer.”
Honora sat transfixed, staring painfully at the big pendant ear-rings.
“It is so kind of you, Mrs. Holt—” she faltered.
“I can realize, my dear, that you would wish to get back to your aunt. The feeling does you infinite credit. But, on the other hand, besides the advantages which would accrue to you, it might, to put the matter delicately, be of a little benefit to your relations, who will have to think of your future.”
“Indeed, it is good of you, but I must go back, Mrs. Holt.”
“Of course,” said Mrs. Holt, with a touch of dignity—for ere now people had left Silverdale before she wished them to—“of course, if you do not care to stay, that is quite another thing.”
“Oh, Mrs. Holt, don't say that!” cried Honora, her face burning; “I cannot thank you enough for the pleasure you have given me. If—if things were different, I would stay with you gladly, although I should miss my family. But now,—now I feel that I must be with them. I—I am engaged to be married.”
Honora still remembers the blank expression which appeared on the countenance of her hostess when she spoke these words. Mrs. Holt's cheeks twitched, her ear-rings quivered, and her bosom heaved-once.
“Engaged to be married!” she gasped.