‘Well, we never thought to meet in such a place, did we? What a country of stones I have come over to-day, enough to break the heart of a farmer; and the very sheep are no better than goats! Vineyards? What they call vineyards are old black stumps that ought to be grubbed up for firewood!’
‘Nay, I was struck by the wonderful cultivation of every
available inch of ground. It speaks well for the Provençals, if we judge by the proverb, “Autant vaut l’homme que vaut sa terre.”’
‘Ah! there she comes;’ and he hastened to join Cecily, while the deserted Bertha, coming up to her sister, muttered, ‘Wretched girl! I hear she had written to him to fetch her home. That was what made her stay so quietly, was it?’
No one could accuse Mervyn of indifference who saw the blank look that overspread his face on hearing of Sir John’s arrival, but he said not a word, only hurried away to dress for the table d’hôte. The first notice the anxious ladies had that the tedious dinner was broken up, was a knock at their door, and Cecily’s entrance, looking exceedingly white, and speaking very low. ‘I am come to wish you good-bye,’ she said. ‘Uncle John has been so kind as to come for me, and I believe we shall set out to-morrow.’
Maria alone could dare to shriek out, ‘Oh! but you promised to show me how to make a crown of my pink heaths, and I have been out with Lieschen, and gathered such beauties!’
‘If you will come with me to my room I will show you while I pack up,’ said Cecily, reducing Bertha to despair by this most effectual barrier to confidence; but she entreated leave to follow, since seeing Cecily playing with Maria was better than not seeing her at all.
After some time, Mervyn came in, flushed and breathless, and Honor kindly made an excuse for leaving him alone with Phœbe. After diligently tossing a book from one hand to the other for some minutes, he observed, sotto voce, ‘That’s a more decent old fellow than I gave him credit for.’
‘Who, Sir John?’
‘Aye.’