"
"I? I am not the hostess."
"No, but you have humours, Irene. One has to be careful."
Irene knitted her brows, and stood for a moment with face half
averted.
"If I cause this sort of embarrassment," she said frankly, I think I
oughtn't to stay."
"It's easily put right, my dear girl. Answer me a simple question.
If I lead Mr. Otway to suppose that his company for a few days is
not disagreeable to us, shall I worry you, or not?"
"Not in the least," was the equally direct answer.
"That's better. We've always got along so well, you know, that it's
annoying to feel there's something not quits understood between us.
Then I shall send a note down to the inn where he's staying, to
appoint a meeting at Aysgarth to-morrow. And I shall ask him to come
here for the rest of the day, if he chooses."
At nightfall, the rain-clouds spread from the hills of Westmorland,
and there were some hours of downpour. This did not look hopeful for
the morrow, but, on the other hand, it promised a finer sight at the
falls, if by chance the weather grew tolerable. The sun rose amid
dropping vapours, and at breakfast-time had not yet conquered the
day, but a steady brightening soon put an end to doubt. The friends
prepared to set forth.
As they were entering the carriage there arrived the postman, with
letters for both, which they read driving down to the dale. One of
Irene's correspondents was her brother, and the contents of
Eustace's letter so astonished her that she sat for a time absorbed
in thought.
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