The disconsolate girl in the window was also a visitor from England; her mother, Mrs. de Lisle, a smart evergreen widow, had certain “expectations” from her relatives the Donnellys, and made a yearly pilgrimage to Clonallon, in order, as she told herself, “to keep the old people up to the mark.” She was handsome and popular, with a pair of beguiling eyes, and an insatiable appetite for society and excitement. The large fortune left by her husband was strictly tied up for the benefit of their daughter Vera. Vera, at eighteen, looked younger than her age: so very soft and simple, and was treated as a mere irresponsible flapper by her parent; nevertheless Vera had inherited a self-reliant enterprising character from the de Lisles (also a streak of daring and independence), but had not as yet found an opportunity of exhibiting herself in her true colours.
Life at Clonallon was desperately dull, and she sorely missed the society of her girl friends; here, everyone was so old—not merely Sir Domnick and Lady Donnelly, but even the servants and dogs—whilst the venerable green parrot was in his dotage. The days seemed endless, from family prayers to family prayers, the interim filled up with eating and drinking, driving abroad to pay calls, or receiving weird-looking visitors at home.
Once, oh great and happy occasion! they had all motored to a neighbouring Meet; that was, indeed, a delightful outing. On Sundays the family attended a funny old church that smelt of mushrooms, and had deep mysterious pews like rows of horse-boxes, as well as a very large gallery, and a very small congregation.
Alas, there were still ten days to put in before departure. Vera’s mother was thrifty in some ways, and declared that short visits, long journeys, and perpetual “tips” were too costly. Also, that after a strenuous season, and Scotland, Clonallon served her as an inexpensive “rest cure.”
Dusk was closing in over the pleasure-grounds, and Vera, yawning till tears stood in her eyes, withdrew from her post and sat down on a stiff-backed old sofa, which stood between the tall windows.
Around a fine turf and wood fire the three elders were assembled, Sir Domnick smoking a meerschaum pipe, Mrs. de Lisle a Turkish cigarette—all three discussing the neighbourhood, and Vera was completely forgotten.
“And so your nearest neighbours are the Meldons?” Mrs. de Lisle was saying.
“The nearest people we visit,” replied Lady Donnelly with significant emphasis.
“There is a big place in the trees, not more than two miles away, on what you call ‘the back road.’”
“Yes—Heganstown—the Hegans live there.”