Courtship -- Fiction; England -- Social life and customs -- 20th century -- Fiction; Families -- Fiction; Widows -- Fiction
Her orders were that Leo was to go nowhere by herself, and she had more
than once eaten humble pie in consequence--for her sister's sake hanging
on to her skirts, a neglected and undesired appendage by the rest of the
party.
Leo alone would be mindful of her, pleasant towards her. Leo was
certainly growing more affectionate and considerate than of old--but Leo
must not go to Cowes alone.
"I will try what I can do," said Sue, after a pause, during which she
absently broke open another envelope in her hand. "I will read what Maud
says of how they are getting on at home. I see she has returned from her
visit to the Fosters, so perhaps----" An exclamation, quite a violent
exclamation for the prim Miss Boldero, followed. Then she looked up, her
face, we should like to say scarlet, or crimson, but truth compels the
statement that Sue's flushes were of a deeper tint, not quite purple,
but that way. Even her brow was now suffused by this tint. "Oh, Leo!"
But Leo was absorbed in a letter of her own.
"This is really--Leo--listen, Leo!"
"Well?" said Leo, absently. "Here's another idea for Cowes. However,
your news first."
"Yes, indeed. You will say so when you hear it. Maud----"
"She's not coming here, is she?"--quickly.
"Maud writes to announce that she is engaged to be married."
"Good gracious!" The effect was electrical. Leo bounded from her seat
and almost tore the sheet from her sister's hands. "Let me see--let me
see," then reading aloud: "Major Foster--Mr. Foster's younger
brother--home from India--left the army--father pleased (that's a good
thing!)--and coming here next week!--Oh, Sue!----Stop, there's more,"
cried Leo, recovering, for the "Oh, Sue!" had been emitted with dolorous
mental reference to the Cowes scheme, now obviously knocked on the head.
"What's this over the page?" and she turned it in Sue's fingers; "only
the man's name--Paul. She doesn't say very much, does she? I thought
people usually put in something about----"
"What?" said Sue, smiling.
"About being happy, and that. Or at least about the man himself--not
merely who he is, and who his people are."
"She will tell us all when we meet. Maud is not much of a writer, and
she is the last person to--to speak of her feelings; but I do not doubt
she is happy," quoth Sue, radiantly. "Dear Maud! To think that she on
her quiet visit--and at the Fosters, the last people one would have
expected--and father pleased----"
"Oh, it's fine," cried Leo, kissing her, "it really is fine. If she had
only waited till after the Cowes week it would have been perfect.
Anyhow, we'll hie back, you and I, with something to look forward to. We
shan't leave all the sweets behind, now that Maud has done the civil by
us with her 'Paul'. I did hate the thought of going home before," she
was running on, when something stopped her, something that sent a little
cold shiver down her back. It was--yes, it was--_the look_. The look on
Sue's face.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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