Nigel could not get into the full swing of fun. Though joining sufficiently to prevent remark, he was unable to shake off the recollection of Ethel at home gaily talking to the "Australian cousin Tom," and pleased to be there rather than on the river. If only he had seen her a little grieved and disappointed, he could have borne her absence bettor. As it was, he felt that he was not making way with Ethel. Things were different from what they once had been. The old frankness and freedom, the complete trust and understanding between them, seemed to be lacking. He loved Ethel more than ever, but he could not at all tell how much she cared for him.
She did care for him, of course, in a measure. "We all," as she had told him, were always ready to give him a welcome; but Nigel craved far more.
Ethel had grown older now, and so had he. Perhaps she wished him to feel that things were and must be a little different, that the boy and girl friendship had to be transposed into something more calm and distant. He wanted it transposed himself, but by no means into something more distant.
And here was Tom—a nice fellow, full of fun and full of talk. Ethel had plainly seen a good deal of him; and who could tell what manner of impression he had made upon her? How bright she had looked at the very thought of seeing Tom a few hours earlier than had been expected! And how little she had cared about losing the boat excursion with himself!
Nigel had seldom felt less full of fun and talk than this afternoon. He had great difficulty in keeping up to the mark at all. Ethel was never out of his mind. He managed pretty well at lunch, and for a while after; but presently he left other folks alone, standing to gaze at the wooded heights, in apparent admiration of their beauty, while he was really looking in imagination at the Rectory drawing-room, hearing Tom's amusing conversation, and Ethel's bright response. If somebody had asked him suddenly whether his eyes were fixed upon turf or trees, he could not have told.
Fulvia alone saw all this, noted every turn of expression, and was aware of his struggle against what Ethel would have called "preternatural gravity." Fulvia was not fully herself to-day. She had not yet recovered from that tearful night-watch, and the "rainy season" lasted still, fitfully; though no traces of tears were visible beyond a general softening of the face. Hope aided in the softening. She saw Nigel's gravity, but she did not ascribe it to Ethel. He had taken Ethel's absence so quietly, hardly uttering a word of regret. No; it was not Ethel. He was only anxious about his father, good affectionate son that he always had been; and he could not shake off the weight.
Nigel was undoubtedly a good son, an affectionate son; and he did feel disturbed about his father's possible condition. Mr. Carden-Cox's warning had been strong enough to cause uneasiness. But the load upon him to-day arose from another cause; the real pain was for Ethel. If Ethel could have come, he would have been the most joyous of the party; if Ethel had spoken out her disappointment, he could still have been cheerful. Now every joke was an effort.
Fulvia did not read the truth; perhaps because she would not. Nigel's composure about Ethel's absence had stirred her to the core. She could no more shake off for a moment the consciousness of his presence than he could shake off the consciousness of Ethel's absence; yet she showed it no more than he did. If Nigel drew a step nearer, her heart beat thickly, as it had taken to doing these last few days; but none could have guessed the fact. Though really by no means well, she was looking her best. Excitement and feverish warmth lent a flush to her cheeks; and the slight heaviness of her eyelids gave to the eyes a rare softness. Now and then she caught Nigel's glance; and after lunch Daisy whispered in passing, "Do you know, Nigel says you have grown pretty this year?"
Fulvia only laughed in response. She grew warmer still; and while other people were glad to don wraps, she pulled off even her cloth jacket, becoming a central figure, daintily attired.
Nigel presently underwent some banter for his abstracted gaze at the hills, and to escape it, he came to her side.