He found her altered and developed. Something had drawn her out. She was no longer the excitable school-girl, a victim to every passing breeze,—but a woman!
And Doris could not understand herself this hour. For she was conscious of enjoying his companionship. She liked to hear of his literary efforts; and it pleased her to be again asked to help in his proof-corrections. At the beginning he had impressed her with a sense of his stiffness and heaviness, in contrast with the slight and agile young mountaineer; but this impression faded as they talked.
She was realising his good social position; the absence with him of family mysteries and undesirable relatives. The difference brought a feeling of repose. No odd second-rate mother-in-law here!—if ever things came to that point. No vulgar, unbearable sister-in-law! A trifle too much of self-assertion, no doubt; and rather too great a love of improving and instructing others. But everybody has his faults. And whatever Hamilton's faults might be, he was refined, well-connected, with finished courtesy of manner. Nothing in him would ever shock her sense of what was correct, though a good deal might try her patience.
She did not say all this to herself definitely; but half-formed comparisons floated through her mind.
He was not Dick!—her dear Dick! A sharp pang shot through her with the name. But if Dick were impossible—utterly impossible!—must she also refuse Hamilton, who cared for her, who was good and kind, true and clever, who—taken as a whole—would be a not undesirable husband? If she could not have the best, might she not be content with the second-best?
Hamilton Stirling—to be reckoned second-best!!
She laughed quietly to herself at the idea.
But she liked his Stirling calm; his repose of bearing; his polish; his assurance. When she recalled Mrs. Morris and Jane, she positively basked in the aristocratic Stirling atmosphere.
With the coming of night, of darkness and solitude, a sharp reaction followed; and she hid her face in the pillow, with stifled sobbing gasps for—"Dick! Dick!"—and a feeling that she must almost die with longing for those grey eyes, those strong brown hands, that passionate enfolding devotion. Yet, when once asleep, she slept soundly; and with early sunlight there was a reverse swing of the pendulum, as she grasped anew the hopelessness of that, the possibilities of this.
Hamilton had made up his mind at last. He was plainly resolved for once not to let the grass grow under his feet. He came again and again to the Rectory. He brought flowers, fruit, proof-sheets, and— geological specimens!