She kept well in health, able to sleep, eat, and walk as usual. She had taken to looking gently pensive and depressed, but this was only correct. Perhaps, if it did not sound cruel, one might even suggest that she looked so because it was correct—because she found that it was expected of her. And the pensive sweetness was very becoming. But Harry, poor fellow, was past seeing that now, and Hermione herself was unaware that she looked aught which she did not genuinely feel.
There was cause enough, undoubtedly, for a saddened face. Nobody would have been surprised at any amount of sorrow on her part. If she had been utterly crushed, it would have been considered only reasonable. But then she was not crushed at all. She was as much interested as ever in people and things, and in surrounding life, and as willing to be "appreciated" by everybody with whom she came in contact. People in overwhelming grief do not care much about appreciation, at least for the time.
There had been no talk as to business. Hermione asked no questions, and the subject had been carefully avoided by the Fitzalans. Mr. Fitzalan supposed that she had learnt from Harvey the true state of affairs, and while inclined to wonder at her silence, he respected it. He was not at all disposed to enter into any discussion about the will, or about what Harvey's duty might be.
But, in truth, Hermione knew little as to the state of affairs. She was vaguely aware that the estate had been left to Harvey, and that he possessed a right to live at the Hall. It never so much as occurred to her that she had a right to live there no longer, except with his permission. She was very young—only nineteen years old—and accustomed to have whatever she liked for the asking. All her life had been spent at Westford, except an occasional month at the sea side, and one long bout of six months on the continent with her grandfather; which six months had transformed her from a complete child to a complete young woman. She went away spoilt, passionate, impulsive, yet pretty and most lovable. She came back lovely, composed, self-restrained, confident, and charming.
As for money matters, Mrs. Milton, the housekeeper, managed all household expenses, with merely a nominal reference to Hermione. Up to seventeen years old Hermione had been in the hands a governess—and a troublesome handful that poor governess found her. Since seventeen she had been her own mistress, and had been permitted to buy whatever she pleased, Mr. Dalrymple paying her bills and keeping her purse filled. She was about as well acquainted with the practical value of money as most children of eight or ten. When Harvey was at Westford Hall, he would occupy the same position that Mr. Dalrymple had occupied; and if there were bills to pay, no doubt Harvey would pay them. Hermione could dismiss the question thus easily. She was a clever girl, well-read, and with opinions on abstract subjects at least as decided as opinions are wont to be at the age of nineteen, but in regard to money matters she was complacently ignorant.
Mr. Fitzalan remarked one day that it was "kind" of Harvey to give her a home. Hermione opened surprised eyes. "Why?" she asked, and Mr. Fitzalan spoke of something else. Though he did not know of the letter to Mr. Selwyn, he knew enough of Mr. Dalrymple's intentions to count Harvey morally though not legally bound to provide for Hermione; he knew quite enough, therefore, to deter him from discussing things with Hermione.
Morally, but not legally! So it was the old question again of right and wrong—of what a man would like to do versus what a man ought to do! But money is very blinding to the moral eyesight where legal freedom exists. Mr. Fitzalan wondered often how Harvey would view his own position.
Marjory had afternoon tea at the Hall with Hermione, the day on which the travellers were expected. Hermione did not seem nervous or timid, as Marjory would have been in her place—as, indeed, Marjory was now. She only looked pensive. Milton had arranged abundance of flowers in the drawing-room, and Hermione altered the arrangement here and there, with some critical remarks. Then she went for a walk on the terrace with Marjory, to while away the time.
"I suppose we shall hear the bells ringing soon?" she said.
"If only that need not have been!" sighed Marjory. "Harry has gone for a long walk to get out of the way. He said he could not stand it."