“But if he be really so timid—”
“Reginald has no want of courage,” said Augustine Aumerle, with unusual warmth in his manner; “I have seen him plunge into a rapid stream to save a drowning child; and when we were boys together, I have known him fight a bully who was twice as strong as himself. Certainly he never could climb a tree,” added the friend in a more thoughtful tone.
“And he played a poor figure on the mountain, according to ‘The Precipice and the Peer,’” said Mabel.
“There was a great deal of exaggeration in that piece; any one could see that,” replied Augustine. “It contained the very essence of malicious satire. I don’t know what could have possessed the countess to write it.”
“Pride, I suppose,” answered Mabel.
“Detestable pride!” muttered her uncle.
“But do you not think that they will be one day reconciled to each other? Annabella has so much that is noble in her; she is so generous and affectionate,—and you seem to have a good opinion of the earl.”
“The mischief is,” replied Augustine, “that he is as proud as she. No, I fear that neither will ever yield, and that this grievous separation will last as long as their lives.”
Mabel and her uncle soon arrived at Aspendale Lodge, a lonely but comfortable dwelling, picturesquely situated on the slope of a wooded hill, with a large meadow spangled with daisies and buttercups behind it, from which the ascent was to take place.
Augustine helped Mabel to alight, and then leading her into his house, introduced her to Mr. Verdon, a small, lightly-built man, with sharp features, and an appearance of remarkable intelligence in his keen grey eyes. Mabel was so eager to see the balloon that she could not wait until she had partaken of the breakfast to which her drive and early rising had disposed her to do full justice, but hurried into the back field.