“I hope you like Frank!” said Kate, with artless eagerness in her look.
“He 's wonderfully good-looking without seeming to know it; but, of course, one cannot expect that to last, Kate.”
“Oh! you cannot think how handsome he was before this illness; and then he is so gentle and affectionate.”
“There—there, child, you must not make me fall in love with him, for you know all my sympathies are Italian; and, having embroidered that beautiful banner for the 'Legion of Hope'—pretty name, is it not?—I never could tolerate the 'Barbari.'”
“Pray do not call them such to my uncle,” said Kate, smiling.
“Never fear, dearest. I 'm in the habit of meeting all kinds of horrid people without ever offending a prejudice; and, besides, I am bent on making a conquest of 'Mon Oncle;' he is precisely the species of adorer I like best. I hope he does not take snuff.”
Kate laughed, as she shook her head in sign of negative.
From this Lady Hester diverged to all manner of reflections about the future,—as to whether she ought or ought not to know Midchekoff when she met him; if the villa of La Rocca were really Kate's, or hers, or the property of somebody else; who was Jekyl's father, or if he ever had such an appendage; in what part of the Tyrol Nelly was then sojourning; was it possible she was married to the dwarf, and ashamed to confess it?—and a vast variety of similar speculations, equally marked by a bold indifference as to probability, and a total disregard to the feelings of her companion. Kate was, then, far from displeased when a messenger came to say that the General was alone in the drawing-room, and would esteem it a favor if the ladies would join him.
“How do you mean, alone?” asked Lady Hester. “Where is Mr. Dalton?”
“Dr. Grounsell came for him, my Lady, and took him away in a carriage.”