All
these answers were satisfactory enough, yet Mrs. Forbes thought she saw a
latent uneasiness in Canon Livingstone's manner, and fancied once or
twice that he hesitated in replying to Ellinor's questions. But there
was no being quite sure in the increasing darkness, which prevented
countenances from being seen; nor in the constant interruptions and
screams which were going on in the small crowded room, as wafting
handkerchiefs, puffs of wind, or veritable extinguishers, fastened to
long sticks, and coming from nobody knew where, put out taper after taper
as fast as they were lighted.
"You will come home with us," said Mrs. Forbes. "I can only offer you
cold meat with tea; our cook is gone out, this being a universal festa;
but we cannot part with an old friend for any scruples as to the
commissariat."
"Thank you. I should have invited myself if you had not been good enough
to ask me."
When they had all arrived at their apartment in the Babuino (Canon
Livingstone had gone round to fetch the letters with which he was
entrusted), Mrs. Forbes was confirmed in her supposition that he had
something particular and not very pleasant to say to Ellinor, by the
rather grave and absent manner in which he awaited her return from taking
off her out-of-door things. He broke off, indeed, in his conversation
with Mrs. Forbes to go and meet Ellinor, and to lead her into the most
distant window before he delivered her letters.
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