They little dreamed what this day was to bring forth. They were to lunch and dine at Broughton Park, and then drive home in the evening. Veronica was in the highest spirits, for Lord Chandon, declining to ride, had taken his seat in the carriage.
[CHAPTER XXXIV.]
"A day to myself," said the young governess, as she heard the carriage drive away. "I have not been alone for so long, and I have so much to think of."
A great silence had fallen over the house; there was no sound of laughing voices, no busy tread of feet, no murmur of conversation; the silence seemed strange after the late gayety and noise. At first a great temptation came over her to roam through the rooms and seek out the traces of Adrian's presence. She might see the books he had been reading, the papers he had touched. She remembered how precious at Bergheim everything seemed to her that he had ever used. It was a great temptation, but she resisted it. She would not disturb the calm that had fallen on her.
"It is of no use," she said to herself, "to open my old wounds. I will go out, and then, if the temptation comes to me again, I cannot yield to it. I will go down to the shore and read; there is no one to interrupt me to-day."
She found a volume that pleased her; and then, book in hand, she walked through the woods and down to the shore, where the restless waves were chanting their grand old anthem. It was only the middle of April, but the day was warm and bright; the sun shone on the blue heaving sea. She sat down under the shelter of a huge bowlder and opened her book, but the beautiful eyes soon wandered from the printed pages; a fairer and far more wonderful volume lay open before her. The place where she sat was so retired and solitary that it seemed as though she were alone in the world. She gave herself up entirely to thought. Past and present were all mingled in one long dream.
It was too delightful to be alone, the luxury was so great. She gave a sigh of unutterable relief. Presently the hat she wore incommoded her; she took it off and laid it on the sands. In removing it she disarranged the brown plaits which Mrs. Chalmers had thought such a success. With impatient fingers she removed them, and the graceful head appeared in all its beauty of clustering hair—golden waves of indescribable loveliness. She laughed as the wind played among them.
"I am my own self again," she said; "and I may be myself for a few minutes without any one seeing me."