“I have lived so much in countries where professors expect to be addressed by their titles on all occasions, that I may claim to be excused for having offended on that point. Thank you for telling me. But I am to blame for discussing science with you. Lord Worthington told us that you had come down here expressly to escape from it—to recruit yourself after an excess of work.”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Cashel.
“I have not done harm enough to be greatly concerned; but I will not offend again. To change the subject, let us look at Miss Goff’s sketch.”
Miss Carew had hardly uttered this suggestion, when Cashel, in a business-like manner, and without the slightest air of gallantry, expertly lifted her and placed her on her feet. This unexpected attention gave her a shock, followed by a thrill that was not disagreeable. She turned to him with a faint mantling on her cheeks. He was looking with contracted brows at the sky, as though occupied with some calculation.
“Thank you,” she said; “but pray do not do that again. It is a little humiliating to be lifted like a child. You are very strong.”
“There is not much strength needed to lift such a feather-weight as you. Seven stone two, I should judge you to be, about. But there’s a great art in doing these things properly. I have often had to carry off a man of fourteen stone, resting him all the time as if he was in bed.”
“Ah,” said Lydia; “I see you have had some hospital practice. I have often admired the skill with which trained nurses handle their patients.”
Cashel made no reply, but, with a sinister grin, followed her to where Alice sat.
“It is very foolish of me, I know,” said Alice, presently; “but I never can draw when any one is looking at me.”
“You fancy that everybody is thinking about how you’re doing it,” said Cashel, encouragingly. “That’s always the way with amateurs. But the truth is that not a soul except yourself is a bit concerned about it. EX-cuse me,” he added, taking up the drawing, and proceeding to examine it leisurely.