And with this promise Flossy feigned contentment. But, when Hubert had left her, she paced up and down the room with cheeks that flamed with excitement, and eyes that glowed with the dull red light of rage. "What was I thinking about to bring this engagement to pass?" she said to herself. "Yet, after all, it is better so. Hubert has a reason for silencing her; with any other man, she would have the matter out in a trice, and ruin me. Now what is the next move? To delay the marriage, of course. I will come round prettily to the General's view, and uphold him in his determination not to allow the marriage for at least two years. So Enid says that she will not betray me until she is married, does she? Then she will never have the chance; for a great deal may happen--to a delicate girl like Enid Vane--in two long years." CHAPTER XXV. Hubert had been worried and overworked of late; it had appeared to him a good thing that he should spend a few of the spring days at Beechfield, and try to recover in the society of his sister and his betrothed the serenity that he had lost. But this seemed after all no easy thing to do. He was annoyed to find himself irritated by small matters; his equanimity, usually perfect, was soon ruffled; and, although he did not always show any outward sign of vexation, he felt that his temper was not quite under his own control. And it was Enid, curiously enough, who irritated him most. "Who is this new singer," she asked one day, "about whom people are talking so much?" "My dear Enid, how am I to know which singer you mean?" he said, letting the newspaper drop from his hand, and clasping his hands leisurely behind his head. "There are so many new singers!" They had been having tea under the beech-tree, and, as usual, had been left alone to do their love-making, undisturbed. Their love-making was of a very undemonstrative character. Enid sat in one comfortable basket-chair, Hubert in another, at a yard's distance. Their conversation went on in fragments, interspersed by long pauses filled up by an orchestra of birds in the branches overhead. "I do not remember her name exactly," said Enid. "The Tollemaches were talking about her yesterday; they heard her in town last week. 'Cynthia' something--'Cynthia,' I remember that, because it is such an uncommon name." "I suppose you mean Miss Cynthia West," said Hubert, after a very long pause. "Yes, 'Cynthia West'--that was the name. Have you heard her?" "Yes." "And do you think her very wonderful?" "She is a remarkably fine singer." "Oh, I hope we shall hear her when we next go up to London! Aunt Leo wants me to stay with her." "That will be very nice," said Hubert, bestirring himself a little. "Then you will hear all the novelties. But I would not go just yet if I were you, London has not begun to wake up again after its winter sleep." "What a horrible place it must be!" said Enid, with a little shiver. "You think so? It is my home."