But though she spoke so confidently, Mrs. Kincton Knox, that perfect woman, was secretly troubled with misgivings of the same uncomfortable kind, and would have given a good deal to be able to modify the past, or even distinctly to call its incidents to mind.
“Of course, Clara, I shan’t observe upon those odd coincidences to Mr.—Mr. Herbert himself. It is his wish to be private for the present. We have no right to pry. But there is certainly justifiable—I may say, even called for—some little modification of our own demeanour toward him, in short; and knowing now—as I feel confident we do—who he is, there is no need of the same degree of reserve and—and distance; and I am very glad, if for this reason only, that you may more frequently, my dear Clara, look in and see your little brother, who is so much shut up; it would be only kind.”
In fact this old warrior, with the Roman nose and eagle eye, surveying the position, felt, in Cromwell’s phrase, that the “Lord had delivered him into her hand.” There he was domesticated, in what she might regard as a romantic incognito, without parental authority to impede or suspicion to alarm him! Could a more favourable conjuncture be fancied? How a little real kindness would tell just now upon his young heart! and he would have such an opportunity in his disguise of estimating and being touched by the real amiability of the Kincton Knoxes; and the Maubray estates and an old baronetage would close Miss Clara’s campaigning with eclat.
The young lady did look into the school-room.
“I’m afraid, Mr. Herbert, you’ll think me very tiresome,” she said.
William had risen as she entered, with a bow.
“But mamma is thinking of taking Howard a drive, if you approve, and Howard, we are going to Bolton Priory. Mamma wishes so much to know whether you will allow him to come.”
“I can have no objection. He’s not now at his lessons. I’m sure it will do him a great deal of good.”
Miss Clara, in a pretty attitude, leaning with one hand on the table, was smiling down on Master Howard, and caressingly running her taper fingers through his curls.
“Let my head be—will you!” he bawled, disengaging himself, with a bounce and a thump at her hand.