She was not more womanly, nor less child-like; and for her being an actress, it seemed a thing impossible. I could but stand and gaze; nor did she seem surprised, nor did her eyes droop, nor her fair cheek mantle: through the untrembling lashes I caught the crystal light as she opposed me, still waiting for me to speak.
I was heartily ashamed at last, and resolved to make her welcome as she maintained that strange regard. I put out my hand, and in an instant she greeted me; the infantine smile shone suddenly that had soothed me so long ago.
"I am very glad to see you, Miss Benette. It was very kind of you to let me come."
"By no means," she replied, with the slightest possible Italian softening of her accent. "I am very much obliged to you, and I am very pleased also. Please sit down, sir, for you have been standing, I am afraid, a long time. I was out at first, and since I returned I made haste; but still, I fear, I have kept you waiting."
"I could have waited all day, Miss Benette, to see such a window as this. How did you manage to put your foot into such a nest?"
"It is a very sweet little place, and the country is most beautiful. I don't know what they mean by its being too near London. I must be near London, and yet I could not exactly live in it, for it makes me idle."
"How very strange! It has the same effect upon me,—that is to say, I always dream in those streets, and lose half my purpose. Still, it must be almost a temptation to indulge a certain kind of idleness here; in such a garden as that, for example, one could pass all one's time."
"I do pass half my time in the garden, and yet I do not think it is too much, for it makes me well; and I cannot work when I am not well,—I was always unfortunate in that respect."
"How do you think I look, by the by, Miss Benette? Am I very much changed? It is perhaps, however, not a safe question."
"Quite safe, sir. You have grown more and more like your inseparable companion,—you always had a look of it, and now it takes the place of all other expression."