What, out of compunction for a certain sharpness with which she had spoken, Mrs. Halifax was about to wish, remained undeclared. For, just this minute, Guy entered, and leaning his handsome head and his tender petits soins over the "English rose," as his mother called her, led her out to the dancing.
We sat down and looked on.
"Guy dances lazily; he is rather pale too, I fancy."
"Tired, probably. He was out far too long on the ice to-day, with Maud and Miss Silver. What a pretty creature his partner is!" added Ursula, thoughtfully.
"The children are growing up fast," I said.
"Ay, indeed. To think that Guy is actually twenty-one—the age when his father was married!"
"Guy will be reminding you of that fact some day soon."
Mrs. Halifax smiled. "The sooner the better, if only he makes a worthy choice—if only he brings me a daughter whom I can love."
And I fancied there was love—motherly love—in the eyes that followed through the graceful mazes of her dancing, the bonny English rose.
Guy and his partner sat down beside us. His mother noticed that he had turned very pale again, and the lad owned to be in some pain: he had twisted his foot that morning, in helping Maud and Miss Silver across the ice; but it was a mere trifle—not worth mentioning.