Part 20 (1/2)
”Oh, well,” said the young man, with a sudden softening of voice and manner, ”it's not often that others see me in the light that you two appear to have agreed upon. I don't see why I am to disclaim it. It's erroneous, of course; but rather unpleasant on the whole; and, after all, we never do judge one another justly. If you didn't think me better than I am, you might think me worse; so I'll say no more.”
”Better not, it would be labor lost,” said Wyn, seriously. ”When we Allonbys say a thing, we stick to it.”
”Do you?” said he, with an intonation of eager interest, as if he had never before heard such a characteristic in any family.
The girl nodded, but turned away, and beckoned to him not to talk any more.
”We must leave him a little,” she said, gently. ”Dr. Forbes will soon be here, and I don't want him to think him unduly excited.”
”Wyn,” said Osmond, as his sister and the Honorable Claud reached the door, ”is Miss Brabourne downstairs?”
”Yes.”
”It was she who found me by the roadside?”
”Yes.”
”Ah!” He said no more, but turned his face to the window and lay still, with his poetic and prominent chin raised a little. It was impossible to guess at his musings.
CHAPTER XV.
Since you have praised my hair, 'Tis proper to be choice in what I wear.
_In a Gondola._
When Miss Allonby and Mr. Cranmer emerged into the garden, they found a pleasing group awaiting their arrival.
Lady Mabel was sitting in a wicker chair, her gloves were removed, and lay rolled up in her lap, her firm white hands were employed with tea-cups and cream jug.
On the gra.s.s near sat Elsa, her hat off, her eyes dilated with wonder and enjoyment. Mr. Fowler stood near her ladys.h.i.+p, cutting bread-and-b.u.t.ter.
”Come along, Claud,” she cried, as they appeared. ”That good Mrs.
Battis.h.i.+ll provides an _al fresco_ tea for us! Sit down and take the gifts the G.o.ds provide you. Did you ever see such a view?”
”Never,” said Claud, with conviction. ”Of all the lovely bits of rural England, I do think this is the loveliest. What makes its charm so peculiar is that it's unique. Half a mile along the high-road either towards Philmouth or Stanton, you would never guess at the existence of such an out-of-the-way spot of beauty. It really does remind one of what your brother called it,” he went on, turning to Wynifred, ”The 'Island Valley of Avilion.'”
”That's in Tennyson, I think,” said Mr. Fowler. ”I am ashamed to say how little poetry I read; we are behind the times here in the Combe, I'm afraid--eh, Elsie?”
”I don't know,” said the monosyllabic beauty, confused.
Her large eyes were resting on Miss Allonby, drinking her in as she had drunk in Lady Mabel. They were not alike, most a.s.suredly, yet from Elaine's standpoint there was a similarity. Both of them were evidently at ease. Each knew how to sit in her chair, what to do with her hands, and, above all, what to say.
When her aunts received company they were excited, disordered. They ran here and there, for this and that--they fidgetted, they were flurried.
Wynifred Allonby looked as if she did not know what to be flurried meant.
She wore the simplest of grey linen gowns, with an antique silver buckle at her waist. Into her belt she had fastened three or four of the big dark red carnations which grew in profusion in the farm-house garden, and were just beginning to blossom. She was in the presence of an earl's sister, whom she had never seen before, yet her calm was unruffled, and her manner perfectly quiet. In Elsa's untutored eyes, this was inimitable.
Though she herself had now met Mr. Cranmer several times, yet she found herself blus.h.i.+ng more and more every time she met his eye. Consciousness was awake--her quick feminine eye told her that her clothes did not resemble those of either of the women beside her.