“Yes, my dear young lady,” responded Mrs. Mortimer; “methinks that he cannot be altogether unknown to me;—and yet, my thoughts are so bewildered at this moment—the reminiscences which have been awakened in my mind by this visit to a spot where I myself once dwelt, and where I have passed so many happy hours with my dear deceased husband, General Mortimer——”
“Oh! do not weep, madam—compose yourself, I beseech you!” exclaimed Agnes, whose unsuspicious soul was touched by the grief which her artful visitor simulated so aptly.
“Dear young lady,” murmured Mrs. Mortimer, pressing Miss Vernon’s hand to her lips, “you will perhaps allow me to visit you again?”
“Oh! certainly,” was the reply, given with cheerful and unaffected cordiality. “You are the widow of an officer of high rank—and therefore I cannot be doing wrong by receiving you at my house. At the same time,” added Agnes, after a moment’s reflection, “I do not imagine that my father——”
But the young lady’s remark was cut short in the middle by a loud knocking at the front-door. Mrs. Mortimer started up, as she felt that she was an intruder, and that her business there was of an equivocal character not likely to stand the test of any inquiry that might be put by a person less artless and unsophisticated than Miss Vernon herself: but that young lady, having a pure conscience, and not dreaming that she had even acted with imprudence in permitting a stranger to foist herself upon her, said in a cheerful manner, “Oh! it is my father’s knock—I know it well! You need not be uneasy.”
At this moment the parlour-door opened, and the pretty maid-servant appeared on the threshold to usher in a gentleman of whose personal appearance we must give a brief description.
CHAPTER CLIX.
MRS. MORTIMER’S ADVENTURES CONTINUED.
The individual alluded to was a man of middle height, of rather spare form, and slightly bowed—so that although his years in reality had scarcely numbered sixty, a casual beholder might have pronounced him to be above seventy. A closer observation would, however, have dispelled this first impression; for his features were handsome and well-preserved, his teeth remarkably fine, and his hands entirely free from those wrinkles which usually appear upon the fingers of persons in the winter of their existence. His hair was of that iron grey which showed that it still retained a faint shade of its former blackness; and baldness had not even begun to rob him of any part of that natural covering. He wore no whiskers; and his countenance was smooth, but pale. In a word, his frame still preserved much of its pristine vigour; though its spareness and the slightly curved back were calculated, as above mentioned, to impress a casual observer with the idea that the individual whom we are describing was older than in reality he was.
We have said that his features were handsome; and we should now state that their general expression was pleasing, conciliating, and agreeable. Amiability of disposition, generosity of heart, and an acquaintance with affliction, were easily read upon that calm, pensive countenance; but, commingled therewith, was an air of serene dignity which bespoke a consciousness of some kind of superiority—whether of rank, wealth, or intellect, could not, however, be immediately decided by the observer. At all events, the person whom we have now introduced to our readers was not one to be passed by with indifference, nor confounded with the ordinary mass of mankind. We must, however, explain that he was rather characterised by a distinguished air of good breeding and consummate politeness than by aristocratic hauteur; at the same time there was so much dignity and loftiness about him as to debar even the most obtrusive and unceremonious from taking advantage of that blandness of disposition which was expressed by the countenance. We have only to add that he was dressed with taste, if not elegance; and the reader has before him as perfect a picture as we can draw of the personal appearance of the individual who now entered the parlour of the cottage.
The moment he had crossed the threshold of the room, Agnes sprang towards him, saying, “My dearest father, I am delighted to see you! But let me hope that nothing unpleasant has caused this late visit.”