No one could help feeling happy and light-hearted upon such a beautiful bright morning, especially as we turned through the fields, and went across towards the river. The trees were all green, and the grass shining with flowers, birds singing, the sky above a splendid azure, and all around looking quite lovely; while the soft, delicious air fanned one’s cheek, so that I could not help agreeing with Clara when, after a long silence, she heaved a deep sigh, and said,—
“Oh, how delightful it is to feel young and be in love.”
Though, after all, I was not so sure about the last part, for I did not feel half satisfied concerning my affaire de coeur, and was strolling somewhat listlessly along, when Clara pinched my arm.
“Here they come,” she whispered.
And sure enough, there were Achille and the Signor coming towards us; when, I could not help it, all my ill-humour seemed to dart out of my eyes in a moment, and I could do nothing but sigh, and feel that I was a hopeless captive.
As I said before, I could not help it, and was obliged to close my eyes, when a horrible jerk brought me to myself; when there, if Clara had not let me step right into the ditch beside the path—a dreadful stinging-nettley place—instead of quietly guiding me, when she might have known that my eyes were shut; while before I could extricate myself, if Achille was not at my side, helping me out and squeezing my hand, so that really, out of self-defence, I was obliged to return the pressure.
“Miss Bozerne!” exclaimed Lady Blunt, pressing up to me, “how could you?”
I did not know, so I could not reply; while there were Miss Furness and the Fraülein—fat, hook-nosed old owl—looking as spiteful as could be.
“She did it on purpose,” I heard Miss Furness whisper; while the Fraülein nodded her head ever so many times, so that she looked like a bird pecking with a hooked beak.
“Mademoiselle is not hurt, I hope?” said Achille, in his silkiest, smoothest tones; and there was so much feeling in the way he spoke, that I quite forgave him.