Part 9 (1/2)
CHAPTER VI.
A MATTER OF ANCIENT HISTORY.
The focusing cloth clung to her head like a cowl as she raised it and bowed. There must have been nervousness on both sides, for the moment, but it did not prevent Lord Manister from taking off his hat with a sweep and swiftness that amounted almost to a flourish, nor Christina from noticing this and his clothes. He was so admirably attired in summer gray that she took pleasure in reflecting that she was herself unusually shabby, her idea being that contact with the incorrect was rather good for him. Correctness of any kind, it is to be feared, was ridiculously wrong in her eyes. Otherwise she might have been different herself.
”I knew it was you!” Lord Manister declared, having shaken her hand.
”How could you know?” said Christina, smiling. ”You must be very clever.”
”I wish I was. No; I met your brother running like anything with some wooden things under his arm. He wouldn't see me, but I saw him. I was going to pull up, but he wouldn't see me.”
Miss Luttrell explained that her brother had gone back for plates, which they had both very stupidly forgotten; she added that she was sure he could not have recognized Lord Manister.
”Plates!” said this n.o.bleman. ”Ah, they're important, I know.”
”Well, they're your cartridges; you can't shoot anything without them.”
Lord Manister gave a louder laugh than the remark merited; then he studied his boots among the daisies. Christina smiled as she watched him, until he looked up briskly, and nearly caught her.
”I say, Miss Luttrell, I should like immensely to be on in this scene, if you would let me! I mean to say I should like to see the thing taken.
Perhaps you could do with the trap and my mare on the bridge; she's something special, I a.s.sure you. And I have been thinking--if you think so too--that my man might go back for your brother and give him a lift.
It must be monstrous hot walking. It's a monstrous hot day, you know.”
This was not only an exaggeration, but a puff of smoke revealing hidden fires within the young man's head. Christina fanned the fire until it tinged his cheek by willfully hesitating before giving him a gracious answer. For when she spoke it was to say, with a smile at his anxiety, ”Really, you are very considerate, Lord Manister, and I am sure Herbert will be grateful.” They walked to the bridge, and stood upon it the next minute, watching the dogcart swing out of sight where the road bent.
”Your brother is very likely halfway back by this time,” remarked Lord Manister, who would have been very sorry to believe what he was saying.
”I dare say my man will pick him up directly; if so, they'll be back in a minute.”
”I hope they will,” said Christina--”the light is so excellent just now,” she was in a hurry to add.
”Ah, the light in Australia was better for this sort of thing.”
”As a rule, yes; but it would surely be difficult to beat this morning anywhere; the great thing is, over here, that you are so free from glare.”
”Then you like England?”
”Well, I must say I like this corner of England; I haven't seen much else, you know.”
”Good! I am glad you like this corner; you know it's ours,” said the young fellow simply. Then he paused. ”How strange to meet you here, though!” he added, as if he could not help it, nor the slight stress that laid itself upon the personal p.r.o.noun.
”It should rather strike me as strange to meet you,” Miss Luttrell replied pointedly; ”for I am sure I told you that my sister and her husband had taken Essingham Rectory for August. You may have forgotten the occasion. It was in London.”
”Dear me, no, I'm not likely to forget it. To be sure you told me--at Lady Almeric's.”
”Then perhaps you remember saying that you knew _of_ Essingham?”
It was not, perhaps, because this was very dryly said that Lord Manister smiled. Nor was the smile one of his best, which were charming; it was visibly the expression of his nervousness, not his mirth.