"Then I mustn't tell Philip of your sadness?" he asked softly, at last. "But will you tell him yourself, Thelma? Depend upon it, it's much better to have no secrets from him. The least grief of yours would affect him more than the downfall of a kingdom. You know how dearly he loves you!"
"Yes--I know!" she answered, and her eyes brightened slowly. "And that is why I wish him always to see me happy!" She paused, and then added in a lower tone, "I would rather die, my friend, than vex him for one hour!"
George still held her hands and looked wistfully in her face. He was about to speak again, when a cold, courteous voice interrupted them.
"Lady Errington, may I have the honor of taking you in to supper?"
It was Sir Francis Lennox. He had entered quite noiselessly--his footsteps making no sound on the thick velvet-pile carpet, and he stood quite close to Lorimer, who dropped Thelma's hands hastily and darted a suspicious glance at the intruder. But Sir Francis was the very picture of unconcerned and bland politeness, and offered Thelma his arm with the graceful ease of an accomplished courtier. She was, perforce, compelled to accept it--and she was slightly confused, though she could not have told why.
"Sir Philip has been looking everywhere for you," continued Sir Francis amicably. "And for you also," he added, turning slightly to Lorimer. "I trust I've not abruptly broken off a pleasant tête-à-tête?"
Lorimer colored hotly. "Not at all," he said rather brusquely. "I've been strumming on the organ, and Lady Errington has been good enough to listen to me."
"You do not strum" said Thelma, with gentle reproach. "You play very beautifully."
"Ah! a charming accomplishment!" observed Sir Francis, with his under-glance and covert smile, as they all three wended their way out of the library. "I regret I have never had time to devote myself to acquiring some knowledge of the arts. In music I am a positive ignoramus! I can hold my own best in the field."
"Yes, you're a great adept at hunting, Lennox," remarked Lorimer suddenly, with something sarcastic in his tone. "I suppose the quarry never escapes you?"
"Seldom!" returned Sir Francis coolly. "Indeed, I think I may say, never!"
And with that, he passed into the supper-room, elbowing a way for Thelma, till he succeeded in placing her near the head of the table, where she was soon busily occupied in entertaining her guests and listening to their chatter; and Lorimer, looking at her once or twice, saw, to his great relief, that all traces of her former agitation had disappeared, leaving her face fair and radiant as a spring morning.