"Alas, yes!" replied Cecil.
He sighed at the thought of his delicious tête-à-tête being broken up; and, though he consoled himself with the idea that, since he was to remain at the hall, many other opportunities must occur, yet he knew by experience that there is no such thing as the repetition of a scene in which emotion plays the principal part. You cannot command such things. They spring out of the moment. They are dependent upon a thousand circumstances, over which you have no control. The mood of mind, the state of the atmosphere, the accident of association, all concur in investing some ordinary occasion with a magic charm, which may never be felt again. "I was a fool not to have declared myself. She would certainly have accepted me," he said to himself, as he dismounted, and passed into the drawing-room, where he found Mrs. St. John, Julius, the clergyman's wife, and Marmaduke Ashley, who had just come down on a visit at the Grange. Maxwell, with Mr. and Mrs. Meredith Vyner arrived shortly afterwards, and the whole party sat down to a merry luncheon.
"I'm delighted to learn that you are going to prolong your stay down here, Mr. Chamberlayne," said Julius St. John; "and hope you will not confine your shooting to Wyton. The Grange, they tell me, is famous for its game."
"You are very kind," replied Cecil; "but I shall scarcely avail myself of your offer. I am no sportsman."
Violet, turning suddenly round upon him, with a look of incredulity, said,—
"No sportsman?—and such an excellent shot!"
"Don't confess it before her," said Vyner, laughing; "or you will be lost in her estimation. She is a true descendant of Diana; and, like her mythic ancestress,—
Sævis inimica Virgo
Belluis...."
"I'm grieved, indeed!" replied Cecil; "but treat me as a cockney; shower contempt upon me for the confession; but, the truth is, I never found much pleasure in any sport, except hunting; and the little pleasure I used to find in shooting was destroyed five years ago."
"How was that?"