'Have you seen this stepmother of mine lately?' he asked.
'No—but she has invited me to Earlshaugh next month, not knowing, perhaps, that you would spend the first month of your leave—'
'With his old uncle,' said Sir Harry, as his eyes kindled, and he patted Roland's shoulder, adding, 'a good lad—a good lad—my own sister's son!'
Uncle and nephew had much in common between them, even 'shop,' as they phrased it; and the regard they had for each other was mutual and keen.
'She writes to me seldom,' said Hester, 'for, of course, our tastes and ideas are somewhat apart; but, as papa says, when he sees her stiff note-paper, with the sham gentility of its gilt and crimson monogram, and strong fragrance of Essbouquet, he feels sure that, with all her manners, airs, and so forth, she cannot be a lady, though many a lady's companion, as she was to your mother, unhappily is.'
Roland remained silent, sucking his cheroot viciously.
'Yes,' observed his uncle, 'her very notes in their pomposity speak of self-assertion.'
'In going—unwillingly as I shall—to Earlshaugh, I don't know how the deuce I may get on with such an incubus,' said Roland thoughtfully; and now thoughts of the cold welcome that awaited him by the hearth that had been his father's, and their forefathers' for generations past, made him naturally think and feel more warmly and kindly of those with whom he was now, and more disposed to cling to the loving old kinsman who eyed him so affectionately, and the sweet, gentle cousin, every motion of whose white hands and handsome head was full of grace; and thus, more tenderly than ever was his wont, he looked upon her and addressed her, softly touching her hands, as he affected to sort, but rather disarranged, the wool in her work-basket; and, though the days were rather past now when he regarded with interest and admiration every pretty girl as the probable wife of his future, and he had not thought of Hester in that sense at all, she was not without a subtle interest for him that he could scarcely define.
'Give me some music, Hester—by Jove! I am getting quite into the blues; there is a piano in the next room,' said Roland, throwing aside his cigar and leading her away; 'a song if you will, cousin,' he added, opening the instrument and adjusting the stool, on which she seated herself.
'What song, Roland?'