After all, "Grandfather was the best judge."
[CHAPTER VIII.]
FOR THE FUTURE.
THE evening service was over, and so was the cold evening meal which followed. Mr. Dalrymple had been by no means sorry for the help of Harvey's strong arm on the way home. His head felt "heavy" again, he said, and once or twice he seemed not able to walk straight. "It was only the heat," Hermione decided; "such extreme heat for June." And, as she told herself, he was less knocked up than Marjory.
But physical weakness was with Marjory the ordinary condition of affairs, a part of herself, a thing to be regretted, yet not to cause alarm. Sudden feebleness, coming upon a strong and healthy man, is altogether another matter; and young as Hermione was, she might have known that difference.
She did for a moment feel uneasy when Harvey remarked, "You ought not to have gone to Church this evening;" and her grandfather answered, "No; I almost wish I had not." Would it not have been better if she had given the message? But Mr. Dalrymple might not have followed the advice; and a good-night would restore him. On the whole, however, Hermione hoped for the non-appearance of Mr. Fitzalan.
They were out upon the terrace now, enjoying the still twilight. Mr. Dalrymple was in a comfortable easy-chair, which Harvey had insisted on dragging out of the library. He did not mind trouble of that description, being too thorough a gentleman not to undertake small courtesies. As Mr. Fitzalan had remarked, laziness takes different forms, and certainly Mr. Dalrymple had found his great nephew most kind and attentive all day, ready to anticipate every wish.
"They were out on the terrace enjoying the still twilight."
None of the three showed at first much inclination to talk. After a while, Harvey broke in upon the silence, remarking, "Delicious scent of roses."