t talking to Mr
Wodehouse, who lay on the sofa, looking a trifle less rosy than usual,
like a man who had had a fright, or been startled by some possible
shadow of a ghost. To walk into the room, into the bright household
glow, and smile and shake hands with them, feeling all the time that he
knew more about them than they themselves did, was the strangest
sensation to the young man. He asked how Mr Wodehouse did, with a voice
which, to himself, sounded hollow and unnatural, and sat down beside the
invalid, almost turning his back upon Lucy in his bewilderment. It was
indeed with a great effort that Mr Wentworth mastered himself, and was
able to listen to what his companion said.

"We are all right," said Mr Wodehouse--"a trifle of a headache or
so--nothing to make a talk about; but Molly has forsaken us, and we
were just about getting bored with each other, Lucy and I; a third
person was all we wanted to make us happy--eh? Well I thought you
looked at the door very often--perhaps I was mistaken--but I could
have sworn you were listening and looking for somebody. No wonder
either--I don't think so. I should have done just the same at your
age."

"Indeed, papa, you are quite mistaken," said Lucy. "I suppose that means
that I cannot amuse you by myself, though I have been trying all the
evening. Perhaps Mr Wentworth will be more fortunate." And, either for
shame of being supposed to look for him, or in a little innocent pique,
she moved away from where she was sitting, and rang for tea, and left
the two gentlemen to talk to each other. That is to say, Mr Wodehouse
talked, and the Perpetual Curate sat looking vaguely at the fair figure
which flitted about the room, and wondering if he were awake, or the
world still in its usual place. After a while Miss Wodehouse came in,
very tremulous and pale, and dropped into the first chair she could
find, and pretended to occupy herself over her knitting. She had a
headache, Lucy said; and Mr Wentworth sat watching while the younger
sister tended the elder, bringing her tea, kissing her, persuading her
to go and lie down, taking all kinds of affectionate trouble to cheer
the pale woman, who looked over Lucy's fair head with eyes full of
meaning to the bewildered visitor, who was the only one there who
understood what her trouble meant. When he got up to go away, she wrung
his hand with a pitiful gaze which went to his heart. "Let me know!" she
said in a whisper; and, not satisfied