Again the figure rustled, and the book was shut up; then it rose and advanced towards him timidly a delicate figure dressed with admirable taste in pale blue, having flaxen hair, a white face, large and beseeching grey eyes, and tiny hands with tapering fingers. At the edge of the circle of lamp-light the lady halted, overcome apparently by shyness, and stood still, while her pale face grew gradually from white to pink and from pink to red. Henry also stood still, being seized with a sudden and most unaccountable nervousness. He guessed that this must be Miss Levinger in fact, he remembered her face but not one single word could he utter; indeed, he seemed unable to do anything except regret that he had not waited upstairs till the dinner-bell rang. There is this to be said in excuse of his conduct, that it is somewhat paralysing to a modest man unexpectedly to find himself confronted by the young woman whom his family desire him to marry.
“How do you do?” he ejaculated at last: “I think that we have met before.” And he held out his hand.
“Yes, we have met before,” she answered shyly and in a low voice, touching his sun-browned palm with her delicate fingers, “when you were at home last Christmas year.”
“It seems much longer ago than that,” said Henry, “so long that I wonder you remember me.”
“I do not see so many people that I am likely to forget one of them,” she answered, with a curious little smile. “I dare say that the time seemed long to you, abroad in new countries; but to me, who have not stirred from Monk’s Lodge, it is like yesterday.”
“Well, of course that does make a difference;” then, hastening to change the subject, he added, “I am afraid I was very rude; I thought that you were my sister. I can’t imagine how you can read in this light, and it always vexes me to see people trying their eyes. If you had ever kept a night watch at sea you would understand why.”
“I am accustomed to reading in all sorts of lights,” Emma answered.
“Do you read much, then?”
“I have nothing else to do. You see I have no brothers or sisters, no one at all except my father, who keeps very much to himself; and we have few neighbours round Monk’s Lodge—at least, few that I care to be with,” she added, blushing again.
Henry remembered hearing that the Levingers were considered to be outside the pale of what is called society, and did not pursue this branch of the subject.