CHAPTER XXXIV.
TREVOR AND MAUBRAY IN THE DRAWING-ROOM
Vane Trevor was a remote cousin, and so received as a kinsman; he entered and was greeted smilingly.
“We have secured such a treasure since we saw you—a tutor for my precious Howard; and such a young man—I can’t tell you half what I think of him.” (That, perhaps, was true). “He’s so accomplished.”
“Accomplished—is he?” said Trevor.
“Well, not, perhaps, in the common acceptation of the term, that I know of, but I referred particularly to that charming accomplishment of reading aloud with feeling and point, you know, so sadly neglected, and yet so conducive to real enjoyment and one’s appreciation of good authors when cultivated. You would hardly believe what a resource it is to us poor solitaries. I am quite in love with Mr. Herbert; and I will answer for Clara there; she is as nearly so as a young lady ought to be.”
Playfulness was not Mrs. Kincton Knox’s happiest vein. She was tall, tragic, and ungainly; and her conscious graciousness made one uncomfortable, and her smile was intimidating.
“He certainly does read charmingly,” threw in Miss Clara.