CHAPTER XVI.
LILETH’S DISAPPOINTMENT.
“Le jour de Gloire est arrivé.”
Marseillaise.
T is much later than Claude’s usual hour for rising when he opens his eyes upon the morning following his midnight interview with Miss Giles. And he remains in a sort of half-dormant condition, listening to the sound of a rich contralto voice singing a martial air, to the accompaniment of a piano, at the other end of the house.
The young man dreamily endeavours to make out the words of the song, but cannot. Though when it draws to a conclusion he is surprised to hear, as he fancies, in the chorus or refrain a poetical reference to the Christian name of the young lady who has honoured him with an appointment at the stables for that morning. Claude, thus curiously reminded of his engagement, is not long in making his toilet and finding his way to the trysting-place; but discovering that Glory has not yet put in an appearance there, he returns to the house, and looks in at the drawing-room door to discover who the fair singer may be.
There he finds Miss Mundella seated at the piano. She looks up as she hears the intruder’s footsteps, and, seeing Claude, smiles ingenuously upon him, holding out to him a perfectly modelled hand, and apologising for her absence the previous day.
Lileth is really glad to see Angland, and, odd as it may appear, admires him considerably, although she intends to wipe him out of her way at the earliest opportunity. She feels quite sorry now, as she looks up at him, not for his own sake,—far from it,—but because she thinks what a much more agreeable cavalier he would make than the flap-eared Mr. Cummercropper, who at present fetches and carries for her. And after the manner of the soldiers of opposing armies, who fraternise together during a temporary armistice ere they again fly at one another’s throats, so Lileth is just as glad to enjoy a conversation with her intended victim, as she would be with any other young man who came up to her standard of excellent parts, and these youths were very scarce visitors at Murdaro.
“I hope I have not disturbed you with my playing,” Miss Mundella remarks, noticing as she does so the hesitation with which Angland takes her hand. “I generally practice a little of a morning before breakfast. Are you fond of music?”
“Very fond,” answers Claude, gazing with a mixed feeling of admiration and dislike at the proud, calm features of the fair object of his suspicions, as she bends over the music lying on the chair beside her.