With some sudden arousing he studied her face swiftly as she spoke, then continued:
"Yes, Bernal's really an awfully good chap at bottom. " He turned again to look up at the study windows. "You know, I intend to stand by that fellow always—no matter what he does! Of course, I shall not let his being my brother blind me to his faults— doubtless we all have faults; but I tell you, Nancy, a good heart atones for many things in a man's make-up."
She seemed to be waiting, slightly puzzled, but he broke off—"Now I must hurry to mail these letters It's good to be home for another summer. You really do please me, Nance!"
She thought, as he moved off, that Allan was handsome —more than handsome, indeed. He left an immediate conviction of his superb vitality of body and mind, the incarnation of a spirit created to prevail. Featured in almost faultless outline, of a character unconsciously, unaffectedly proclaiming its superior gravity among human masses, he was a planet destined to have many satellites and be satellite to none; an ego of genuine lordliness; a presence at once masterly and decorative.
And yet she was conscious of a note—not positively of discord, but one still exciting a counter-stream of reflection. She had observed that each time Allan turned his head, ever so little, he had a way of turning his shoulders with it: the perfect head and shoulders were swung with almost a studied unison. And this little thing had pricked her admiration with a certain needle-like suspicion—a suspicion that the young man might be not wholly oblivious of his merits as a spectacle.
Yet this was no matter to permit in one's mind. For Nancy of the lengthened skirts and the massed braids was now a person of reserves. Even in that innocent insolence of first womanhood, with its tentatively malicious, half-conscious flauntings, she was one of reticences toward the world including herself, with petticoats of decorum draping the child's anarchy of thought —her luxuriant young emotions "done up" sedately with her hair. She was now one to be cautious indeed of imputations so blunt as this concerning Allan. Besides, how nobly he had spoken of Bernal. Then she wondered why it should seem noble, for Nancy would be always a creature to wonder where another would accept. She saw it had seemed noble because Bernal must have been up to some deviltry.
This phrase would not be Nancy's—only she knew it to be the way her uncle, for example, would translate Allan's praise of his brother. She hoped Bernal had not been very bad—and wondered how bad.
Then she went to him. Her first little knock brought no answer, nor could she be sure that the second did. But she knew it was loud enough to be heard if the room were occupied, so she gently opened the door a crack and peeped in. He lay on the big couch across the room under the open window, a scarlet wool dressing-gown on, and a steamer-rug thrown over the lower part of his body. He seemed to be looking out and up to the tree that appeared above the window. She thought he could not have heard her, but he called:
"Clytie!"
She crossed the room and bent a little over to meet his eyes when he weakly turned his head on the pillow.