"She is in the house;" her father was instantly at the bell-rope—"yes, I should wish you to see her."
My lord pulled out his glass and dangled it by the ribbon; he had an air of complete abstraction, of aloofness from his surroundings.
"A year ago Lavinia was at school," said Mr. Hilton; "she has had the education of a noblewoman, my lord."
Rose Lyndwood was silent; he looked past the speaker towards the door; glass and ribbon swung from his fine idle hand.
The bell had been obviously a signal, for it was the lady herself who entered.
She came a little way into the room.
"Lord Lyndwood, Lavinia," muttered Mr. Hilton. He moved awkwardly from the hearth; embarrassment made him appear clumsy, even foolish; his daughter, too, stood dumb and fluttering, but the Earl was now perfectly at his ease.
He crossed to Miss Hilton and took her hand; she trembled a curtsey.
"I come as a suitor, madam," he said, as he kissed her finger tips—"would it mightily displease you to become Countess of Lyndwood?"
Then he looked at the girl; he found her fair, pale, very young; to him, at least, without charm or savour; her large eyes seemed to widen with fright, her lips quivered.