After breakfast, Mrs. Davenant and Jane entered into a consultation as to what Una should wear, Una standing by with a quiet smile.
At last they decided that a dainty-figured satin should be honored; and both of them, notwithstanding Una’s protests, insisted upon assisting at her toilet.
They could not have chosen anything more suited to her fresh, virginal beauty than the simple, delicate dress; and when Jane had brushed the soft, silken hair until it shone and flashed like strands of golden haze, and coiled it into a knot, Mrs. Davenant could not suppress an exclamation of satisfaction and admiration.
As for Una, she had not yet learned to view her changed self without surprise, and stared at the tall, beautiful woman which the glass reflected as though she could not believe that it was herself.
They were still looking at her, and Jane’s restless fingers were touching a bow here and a fold there, when they heard the rattle of heavy wheels outside, and Mrs. Davenant hurried her downstairs.
Lady Bell was already in the drawing-room, and took Una in her arms as if she were a school-girl, instead of a woman taller than herself.
“My child, I came to scold you—I meant to have a fearful scene; but you have taken it all out of me!” And she held Una by her elbows, and looked at her admiringly. “Child, you are a picture! I’ve half a mind to drive off without you. What will become of me? Mrs. Davenant, don’t you think I am very stupid to commit suicide in this way?”
Mrs. Davenant smiled, and looked at Lady Bell’s beautiful face, all bright as if with sunlight, and shook her head gently.
“Bah!” said Lady Bell, pouting. “I am nothing but a foil to her; but I shall be useful, at least. Come, we must be off. What is that—milk?”
“Yes,” said Una, offering her a glass, with a smile.