leaving Irene in wonder.
When they were together again, Mrs. Hannaford seemed anxious to
atone for her brevity on the all-important subject. She spoke with
pleasure of her niece's decision thought it wise; abounded in happy
prophecy; through the rest of the day she had a face which spoke
relief, all but contentment. The morning of Sunday saw her nervous.
She made an excuse of the slightly clouded sky for lingering within
doors; she went often to the window and looked this way and that
along the road, as if judging the weather, until Irene, when the
church bells had ceased, grew impatient for the open air.
"Yes, we will go," said her aunt. "I think we safely may."
Each went to her room to make ready. At Mrs. Hannaford's door, just
as she was about to come forth, there sounded a knock; the servant
announced that a gentleman had called to see her--Mr. Otway.
Quivering, death-pale, she ran to the sitting-room. Irene had not
yet reappeared. Piers Otway stood there alone.
"You didn't get my telegram?" broke from her lips, in a hurried
whisper. "Oh! I feared it would be too late, and all is too late."
"You mean----"
"The engagement is announced."
She had time to say no more. At that moment Irene entered the room,
dressed for walking. At first she did not seem to recognise the
visitor, then her face lighted up; she smiled, subdued the slight
embarrassment which had succeeded to her perplexity, and stepped
quickly forward.
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