In the farthest corner, perched on a high window-seat—that must have required a knowledge of vaulting to reach—sat the guilty pair, dangling their feet. Anything more engaging than Miss Trumpet looked could not be imagined. The tiniest pink satin slippers peeped out of billows of exquisite dessous. Her little face seemed a mass of dimpling smiles. Not a trace of embarrassment appeared in her manner.
"I say, Duke," she called, "you have got a sweet place here. We have been watching for the monk to pass, but he has not come yet."
The Duke stepped forward to help her down.
"Don't you trouble," she said. "Why, we had a gymnasium at the convent. I can jump."
Lady Grenellen now appeared upon the scene. She looked like an angry cat. I turned, with Lady Tilchester, and left the rest of the party. What happened I do not know, but when they joined us all in the hall again the heiress was with the Duke, Lord Luffton walked alone, while Augustus, once more beaming, was close to Lady Grenellen's side. So it is an ill wind that blows no one any good.
Next day, after a delightful shooting-lunch and a brisk walk back, the heiress came to my room and talked to me.
She had apparently taken a great fancy to me, and we had had several conversations.
"I don't know why, but you give me the impression that you are a stranger, too, like Aunt Martina and me," she said. "You don't look at all like the rest of the Englishwomen. Why, your back is not nearly so long. I could almost take you for an American, you are so chic."
I laughed.
"Even Lady Tilchester, who is by far the nicest and grandest of them, does not look such an aristocrat as you do."