“You’ve been insufferable, my dear!” cried Kitty, patience giving way at length, as the sleek royal horses started on their homeward way.
Selina turned her long, brilliant eyes upon her companion without speaking. There was a pert question and an underlying significance in them, which further exasperated the chaperone.
“’Pon honour!” exploded Kitty, “I marvel what’s to do with you. You, with everything the world can give you, and three as sweet hats chosen as ever I’ve seen in my whole life! Such a picture as you’ll look, a Bride, with your mother’s lace and all! and by the airs of you, you might have been trying on sackcloth to go to the stake.”
“You must remember, my Lady Kilcroney, that I am in mourning.”
“Psha!”
“And Sir Jasper a widower himself.”
“And what of that, child?”
“Oh, nothing,” said Selina. “Do you think it’s going to rain?”
Kitty looked at her long and earnestly. Was there ever such a little shut-up countenance, such obstinate close lips and such naughty secret eyes?
“I wish to Heaven,” she said, at last, “that you’d say what you’ve got in your heart, child.”