As far as it was possible to make travelling dull, this journey was rendered dull. Sir Arthur and Lady Vaughan seemed to have only one dread, and that was of seeing and being seen. The blinds of the carriage windows were all drawn. "They had not come abroad for scenery, but for change of air," her ladyship observed several times each day. When it was necessary to stay at a hotel, they had a separate suite of rooms. There was no table d'hote, no mixing with other travellers; they were completely exclusive.
As they drew near Bergheim, Hyacinth's beautiful face grew calm and serene. She even wondered what he would be like, this Adrian Darcy. He was a scholar and a gentleman—but what else? Would he despise her as a child, or admire her as a woman? Would he fall in love with her, or would he remain profoundly indifferent to her charms? She was startled from her reverie by Lady Vaughan's voice.
"We will drive straight to the hotel," she said; "Mr. Darcy has taken rooms for us there."
"Shall we see him to-night?" asked Sir Arthur.
"No, I should imagine not. Adrian is always considerate. He will know we are tired, and consequently not in the best of moods for visitors," she replied. "He will be with us to-morrow morning."
And, strange to say, Hyacinth Vaughan, who had once put from her even the thought of Adrian Darcy, felt some slight disappointment that she was not to see him until the morrow.
[CHAPTER X.]
"This is something like life," thought Hyacinth Vaughan, as the summer sun came streaming into her room.
It was yet early in the morning, but there was a sound of music from the gardens. She drew aside the blinds, and saw a lake in all its beauty, the most cheerful, the brightest scene upon which she had ever gazed.