Stuart Crosbie listened with pleasure to the ripple of her voice, his eyes never tired of wandering to her sweet face, lovely in its innocence; but, when he had parted from her and strode home along the lanes, his brow was clouded and a puzzled expression rested upon his face.
CHAPTER VI.
Wednesday morning broke clear and cloudless. Margery rose at an early hour, and sat looking out of her little window at the sun gilding the fields and trees with its glory. Stuart Crosbie, too, rose earlier than was his wont; and he occupied the time till the breakfast-gong sounded in walking up and down his room, apparently in deep thought. As the muffled summons reached his ear, he uttered an impatient “Pshaw!” and made his way slowly down the stairs. His mother was seated at the table when he entered the room; and he had scarcely exchanged greetings with her when Vane Charteris made her appearance. It was not Miss Charteris’ usual custom to honor the breakfast table with her presence; but since her stay at Crosbie the mood had seized her, and she descended regularly to the early meal.
“Good-morning, my dear,” said Mrs. Crosbie, smiling her sweetest. “You look as fresh as a rose; doesn’t she, Stuart?”
“Words always fail me to describe Cousin Vane’s beauty,” was his gallant reply.
Vane smiled languidly; but she was not quite happy. There was something strange about this cousin of hers; he was attentive, but his attentions seemed to be the outcome of habit rather than inclination. Was her power to fail her here, too?
“What is the programme for to-day?” she asked, as she drew her chair to the table.
“We must devise something,” observed Mrs. Crosbie. “Ah, Vane, my dear, I fear you find this place very dull!”
“Dull!” repeated Miss Charteris. “I cannot tell you, my dear aunt, how happy I am in your lovely home.”
Mrs. Crosbie felt her heart swell; more and more she saw the advisability of a marriage between Stuart and his cousin, more and more she determined it should take place.