“But, Mrs. Holt, I had no idea of—of falling in love with him,” protested Honora, as soon as she could get her breath. He seemed so kind—and so interested in everything.
“I dare say,” said Mrs. Holt, dryly. “And I have always been led to believe that that is the most dangerous sort. I am sure, Honora, after what I have said, you will give him no encouragement.”
“Oh, Mrs. Holt,” cried Honora again, “I shouldn't think of such a thing!”
“I am sure of it, Honora, now that you are forewarned. And your suggestion to take him to the Institution was not a bad one. I meant to do so anyway, and I think it will be good for him. Good night, my dear.”
After the good lady bad gone, Honora stood for some moments motionless. Then she turned out the light.
CHAPTER IX. IN WHICH THE VICOMTE CONTINUES HIS STUDIES
Mr. Robert Holt, Honora learned at breakfast, had two bobbies. She had never heard of what is called Forestry, and had always believed the wood of her country to be inexhaustible. It had never occurred to her to think of a wild forest as an example of nature's extravagance, and so flattering was her attention while Robert explained the primary principles of caring for trees that he actually offered to show her one of the tracts on the estate which he was treating. He could not,—he regretted to say, take her that morning.
His other hobby was golf. He was president of the Sutton Golf Club, and had arranged to play a match with Mr. Spence. This gentleman, it appeared, was likewise an enthusiast, and had brought to Silverdale a leather bag filled with sticks.
“Won't you come, too, Miss Leffingwell?” he said, as he took a second cup of coffee.