Next morning Annot was in the garden betimes, natheless the fatigue of her long railway journey; she seemed bright as a summer butterfly, inhaling the fresh odour of the flowers, under the shady trees, amid the rhododendrons of every brilliant tint, the roses and sub-tropical plants that opened their rich petals to the August sunshine, and more than all did she seem to enjoy the fresh, soft breeze that came up the steep winding glen or ravine through which the Esk ran gurgling; and ever and anon she glanced at her companion Roland, indulging in that playful gaîté de coeur, which so often ends in disaster, for she was a finished flirt to the tips of her dainty fingers; and he was thinking, between the whiffs of his permitted cigar: What caused his present emotion—this sudden attraction towards a girl whom he had never seen before, and whose existence had been barely known to him? And now she was culling a dainty 'button-hole' for him, and making him select a bouquet for the breast of her morning dress, a most becoming robe of light blue cashmere with ribbons and lace of white.
Could it be that mysterious influence of which he had heard often, and yet of which he knew so little—a current of affinity so subtle and penetrating, that none under its spell could resist it? He was not casuist enough to determine; but looked about for his cousin Hester and muttered:
'Don't play the fool, Roland, my boy!'
Usually very diffident and reticent in talking about himself and his affairs, even the gentle and winning Hester had failed, as she said, to 'draw him out;' but now, Annot—the irrepressible Annot—led him on to do so by manifesting, or affecting to manifest, a keen interest in them, and thus lured him into flattering confidences to her alone about his garrison life in England and the Mediterranean, or as much as he cared to tell of it; his campaigns in Egypt; his escape from the slaughter of Kashgate; his risks and wounds; his medals and clasps; his regiment, comrades, and so forth, in all of which she seemed suddenly to develop the deepest interest, though perhaps an evil-minded person might have hinted that she had a deeper and truer interest in Earlshaugh and its surroundings, of which he had no conception as yet.
Hester quickly saw through these little manoeuvres, and at first she laughed at them, thinking they were all the girl's way; that Roland was the only young man at Merlwood; and so, by habit and nature, she must talk to him, laugh with him, make [oe]illades and dress for him; and in dressing she was an adept, choosing always soft and clinging materials of colours suited to her pure complexion and fair beauty, and well she knew by experience already that 'love feeds on suggestions—almost illusions,' as a French writer says; 'for the greatest charm about a woman's dress is less what it displays than what it only hints at;' and Annot had all that skill or taste in costume which is a great speciality of London girls.
During the whole day after this arrival, and even the following one, Hester was unpleasantly conscious that because Annot Drummond absorbed Roland so entirely, he had scarcely an opportunity of addressing herself alone, and still less of referring—beyond a glance and a hand pressure or so forth—to that evening, on the last minutes of which so much had seemed to hinge.
A little music usually closed each evening, and Annot performed, from Chopin and others, various 'fireworks' on the piano, as Roland was wont to term them; while at Hester's little songs, such as that one to the air of the 'Briar Bush,' she openly laughed, declaring they were quite 'too, too!'
Her voice was not so trained as Annot's, and was not remarkable for strength or compass, but it was clear and sweet, fresh and true, and she sang with unaffected expression, being well desirous of pleasing her cousin Roland—her lover as she perhaps deemed him now.
Annot's song, after Hester had given a little chanson from Beranger—'Du, du liegst mir im Herzen,' accompanied—though sung indifferently—with several [oe]illades at Roland, gave her an opportunity to make, what Hester termed, some of her 'wild speeches.'
'A sweet love song, Annot,' said the latter.