“Now you must come into the drawing-room and hear my niece sing,” and in spite of her aunt’s protestations that Letty had too much to do, and she could not possibly spare her, she was led to the piano and enchanted her listeners with two or three of Schumann’s songs, and Gounod’s “Ave Maria,” and the extraordinary impression that this beautiful girl had made upon a susceptible young man, was now complete.
Lancelot Lumley looked and listened in silence, and surrendered his heart without a further struggle. Although he knew, that it was absolute madness for him to think of Miss Glyn as anything but a star that dwelt apart! He had his way to make—she was penniless—her face, her lovely face, was her fortune.
On Christmas morning as he sat alone in the Rectory pew, his eyes often wandered across the aisle, in search of Miss Glyn. How her sweet voice appeared to rise and swell above all others; and to the infatuated lover it seemed, that the beautiful fair-haired girl, with the rapt, devotional expression, was the embodiment of a Herald angel! When the service was over, Lumley met his angel in the porch; here they exchanged seasonable greetings and received congratulations on their joint embellishment of the pulpit. Then, very late on Christmas night, Lumley ran up to The Holt to bid them all good-bye. He was hurrying home early the next morning, as his leave had nearly expired; but brief as this visit was, he found an opportunity to say to Letty:
“I hear you are coming out at the Hunt Ball the end of January? Perhaps I can get leave for it. I generally try to put in an appearance—you know it’s in my part of the world, and I see all my friends there.”
The real gist of these explanations and excuses was summed up at the end of the sentence:
“I say, Miss Glyn, if I do manage to turn up—will you keep a couple of waltzes for me?”
At which request the young lady coloured, and replied:
“Yes, with pleasure.”
By and by the little seed planted by Mrs. Hesketh began to peep above ground, and Letty Glyn’s will came to life. It made its first appearance on the arrival of certain patterns from London, and the question of a selection from among these, for a best afternoon, and two evening dresses. Mrs. Fenchurch was not disposed to allow her niece any choice in the matter. After looking at them critically, and fingering the textures, she said: