“This part of England seems to me singularly free from faults,” interposed Mrs. de Tracy in didactic tones. “We have a wonderful climate; more sunshine than in any part of the island, I believe. Our local society is singularly free from scandal. The clergy, if not quite as eloquent or profound as in London (and in my opinion it is the better for being neither) is strictly conscientious. We have no burglars or locusts or gnats or even midges, as I’m told they unfortunately 111 have in Scotland, and our dinner-parties, though quiet and dignified, are never dull.... What is the matter, Robinetta?”
“A sudden catch in my throat,” said Robinette, struggling with some sort of vocal difficulty and avoiding Lavendar’s eye. “Thank you,” as he offered her a glass of water from the punctual and strictly temperate evening tray. “Don’t look at me,” she added under her voice.
“Not for a million of money!” he whispered. Then he said aloud: “If I ever stand for Parliament, Mrs. Loring, I should like you to help me with my constituency!”
The unruffled temper and sweet reasonableness of Robinette’s answers to questions by no means always devoid of malice, had struck the young man very much, as he listened.
“She is good!” he thought to himself. “Good and sweet and generous. Her loveliness is not only in her face; it is in her heart.” And some favorite lines began to 112 run in his head that night, with new conviction:––
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He that loves a rosy cheek, Or a coral lip admires, Or from star-like eyes doth seek Fuel to maintain his fires,–– As old Time makes these decay, So his flames will waste away. But a smooth and steadfast mind, Gentle thoughts and calm desires, Hearts with equal love combined–– |
but here Lavendar broke off with a laugh.
“It’s not come to that yet!” he thought. “I wonder if it ever will?”