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"Why, I don't know. I say, she's been away a long time I never noticed," said Avice, in sudden alarm. "She said we were to go on with our French exercises and that's ages ago." "Come on and see," said Wilfred jumping up. Outside the room he caught Avice by the arm. "Kick off your shoes," he said. "We'll sneak up to her room." They crept up silently. The door of Cecilia's room was ajar.
To a more practised, a less confiding, person the perplexity of Lady Cecilia's prefaces, and some contradictions or inconsistencies, might have suggested doubts; hut Helen's general confidence in her friend's truth had never yet been seriously shaken. Lady Davenant she had always thought prejudiced on this point, and too severe.
He pressed Cecilia's hand as he went, indicating his feeling that he had before him an affair of some magnitude, and then, of course, had a word or two to say to Florence in private on the landing. Oh, those delicious private words, the need for which comes so often during those short halcyon days of one's lifetime!
In the second place, he never hinted at the circumstances under which Cecilia's letter had been confided to the gentleman who had left it at her door. She would once more have treated the baronet's communication with contempt but for the discovery that it contained an offer of employment in London, addressed to herself.
The rest of our vates sacri, on whom immortality is proverbially said to depend, seem, generally speaking, to have been ignorance itself in this department. Several of them, indeed, have written odes for St Cecilia's day, but this does not prove that they had a taste for more than rhythm.
"But I am afraid, from what I hear, that you have not been travelling very quietly." "You are quite right, Miss Travers, and I am a sad dog if not a mad one. But pardon me: we are nearing the marquee; the band is striking up, and, alas! I am not a dancing dog." He released Cecilia's arm, and bowed. "Let us sit here a while, then," said she, motioning to a garden-bench.
I did not repine at Cecilia's happiness; so far from it, I would have sacrificed my life for her; but she was a creature of my own one of the objects in this world to which I was endeared one that had been dependent on me and loved me. Now that she was restored to her parent, she rose above me, and I was left still more desolate.
In the midst of this jargon, to which the fulness of Cecilia's mind hardly permitted her to listen, there suddenly appeared at the door of the apartment, Mr Albany, who, with his usual austerity of countenance, stopt to look round upon the company.
She ran up-stairs to her own room, glad to be alone; a flood of joy came over her. "A brother in Cecilia's husband! a brother!" The word had a magical charm, and she could not help repeating it aloud she wept like a child. Lady Cecilia soon came flying in, all delight and affection, reproaches and wonder alternately, in the quickest conceivable succession.
Then he added, gravely, "Cultivate Mrs. Winnie you can't do better at present." Montague accepted his friend's invitation to share her pew at St. Cecilia's, and next Sunday morning he and Alice went, and found Mrs. Winnie with her cousin. Poor Charlie had evidently been scrubbed and shined, both physically and morally, and got ready to appeal for "one more chance."
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