“Come then, Amethyst, I’ve done my duty by the tennis. Now let us enjoy ourselves.”
“But I can’t leave Una by herself,” said Amethyst. “She is a young lady to-day, and doesn’t want to go with the children.”
“Will Miss Una come with me, and have an ice?” said Sylvester; and Una, not displeased by the proposal, went off willingly.
As Sylvester talked to her, with due regard to her rôle of grown-up young lady, and thought of what he had seen, he felt that in that short five minutes of his walk in the shrubbery, there had passed away a glory from the earth.
Una very soon had enough of Mr Riddell, who did not greatly amuse her, and found other companions for herself, exactly when she wished to do so, without the slightest awkwardness. Sylvester’s disturbance of mind took the form of disturbance of temper. The music and the ices and the gaiety annoyed him, and he was making an attempt to get out of the way of the crowd, when he met Mrs Leigh, also alone, and, as in duty bound, asked her if she would like to come and have some fruit, or an ice.
“There are some fascinating little tables in the conservatory by the house, with fruit of the most picturesque description,” said Mrs Leigh. “If I don’t make the most of my opportunities on these occasions, I always feel that I defraud myself, and pay my hosts a bad compliment. Besides, I enjoy a talk with you, Sylvester, so if I am not keeping you from the young ladies—”
“We can discuss the young ladies,” said Sylvester, “and admire them from a distance.”
He and Mrs Leigh were very good friends, and liked each other’s company; but to-day he perceived that she, as well as himself, was abstracted and preoccupied—out of spirits, in fact; and he set it down to the approaching loss of her son from her family circle. He could not, however, make cheering remarks on the subject, just now; so with words that hardly touched the surface of the thoughts of either, he conducted her into the spacious conservatory which made of Loseby a show-place. It was very large and lofty, with nooks and bowers, formed of rare shrubs and creepers, and cunningly-contrived vistas, through which, framed in clematis or taxonia, part of the lawn, and long green walks leading away into the park and woods, were visible.
Sylvester found his companion a seat, and supplied her with a peach; but he had a curious feeling of something impending, of thunder about to burst. As he watched the groups passing before him, and remarked casually on them to Mrs Leigh, he knew that he was really dreading the reappearance of the pair whom he had once before interrupted; and, as he said to himself that it was not likely that such another risk would be run, Mrs Leigh suddenly exclaimed—
“There is Amethyst alone! What can she be doing?”