This little episode was unnoticed by every one but Caterina. Sir Christopher was listening with polite attention to Lady Assher’s history of her last man-cook, who was first-rate at gravies, and for that reason pleased Sir John—he was so particular about his gravies, was Sir John: and so they kept the man six years in spite of his bad pastry. Lady Cheverel and Mr. Gilfil were smiling at Rupert the bloodhound, who had pushed his great head under his master’s arm, and was taking a survey of the dishes, after snuffing at the contents of the Baronet’s plate.
When the ladies were in the drawing-room again, Lady Assher was soon deep in a statement to Lady Cheverel of her views about burying people in woollen.
‘To be sure, you must have a woollen dress, because it’s the law, you know; but that need hinder no one from putting linen underneath. I always used to say, “If Sir John died to-morrow, I would bury him in his shirt;” and I did. And let me advise you to do so by Sir Christopher. You never saw Sir John, Lady Cheverel. He was a large tall man, with a nose just like Beatrice, and so very particular about his shirts.’
Miss Assher, meanwhile, had seated herself by Caterina, and, with that smiling affability which seems to say, ‘I am really not at all proud, though you might expect it of me,’ said,—‘Anthony tells me you sing so very beautifully. I hope we shall hear you this evening.’
‘O yes,’ said Caterina, quietly, without smiling; ‘I always sing when I am wanted to sing.’
‘I envy you such a charming talent. Do you know, I have no ear; I cannot hum the smallest tune, and I delight in music so. Is it not unfortunate? But I shall have quite a treat while I am here; Captain Wybrow says you will give us some music every day.’
‘I should have thought you wouldn’t care about music if you had no ear,’ said Caterina, becoming epigrammatic by force of grave simplicity.
‘O, I assure you, I doat on it; and Anthony is so fond of it; it would be so delightful if I could play and sing to him; though he says he likes me best not to sing, because it doesn’t belong to his idea of me. What style of music do you like best?’
‘I don’t know. I like all beautiful music.’
‘And are you as fond of riding as of music?’