There was another cry for “Mr. Brinkworth.”  Blanche made another effort to push him out.

“Go!” she said.  “And mind you get through the hoop!”

She had both hands on his shoulders—­her face was close to his—­she was simply irresistible.  Arnold caught her round the waist and kissed her.  Needless to tell him to get through the hoop.  He had surely got through it already!  Blanche was speechless.  Arnold’s last effort in the art of courtship had taken away her breath.  Before she could recover herself a sound of approaching footsteps became plainly audible.  Arnold gave her a last squeeze, and ran out.

She sank on the nearest chair, and closed her eyes in a flutter of delicious confusion.

The footsteps ascending to the summer-house came nearer.  Blanche opened her eyes, and saw Anne Silvester, standing alone, looking at her.  She sprang to her feet, and threw her arms impulsively round Anne’s neck.

“You don’t know what has happened,” she whispered.  “Wish me joy, darling.  He has said the words.  He is mine for life!”

All the sisterly love and sisterly confidence of many years was expressed in that embrace, and in the tone in which the words were spoken.  The hearts of the mothers, in the past time, could hardly have been closer to each other—­as it seemed—­than the hearts of the daughters were now.  And yet, if Blanche had looked up in Anne’s face at that moment, she must have seen that Anne’s mind was far away from her little love-story.

“You know who it is?” she went on, after waiting for a reply.

“Mr. Brinkworth?”

“Of course!  Who else should it be?”

“And you are really happy, my love?”

“Happy?” repeated Blanche “Mind! this is strictly between ourselves.  I am ready to jump out of my skin for joy.  I love him!  I love him!  I love him!” she cried, with a childish pleasure in repeating the words.  They were echoed by a heavy sigh.  Blanche instantly looked up into Anne’s face.  “What’s the matter?” she asked, with a sudden change of voice and manner.

“Nothing.”

Blanche’s observation saw too plainly to be blinded in that way.

“There is something the matter,” she said.  “Is it money?” she added, after a moment’s consideration.  “Bills to pay?  I have got plenty of money, Anne.  I’ll lend you what you like.”

“No, no, my dear!”

Blanche drew back, a little hurt.  Anne was keeping her at a distance for the first time in Blanche’s experience of her.

“I tell you all my secrets,” she said.  “Why are you keeping a secret from me? Do you know that you have been looking anxious and out of spirits for some time past?  Perhaps you don’t like Mr. Brinkworth?  No? you do like him?  Is it my marrying, then?  I believe it is!  You fancy we shall be parted, you goose?  As if I could do without you!  Of course, when I am married to Arnold, you will come and live with us.  That’s quite understood between us—­isn’t it?”