"I mean," she hastily corrected, "I hope you will live to a good old age—full of honours—with troops of friends——" Oh, Heaven! the kindly patronage in her voice, the gracious condescension of youth to age, the total absence of any feeling but that of cold respect and half pitiful gratitude!—"And that I may have a place among those many friends," she added, regretting to have expressed herself clumsily; she was tired; had had a day of worries, was stupid.
"I ought not to bore you with my prosy affairs and blundering surmises," he confessed. And yet, owing either to the malice of some demon, or that madness which comes to those the gods menace with ruin, before they reached the lighted hall full of people, he had made her acquainted with his true age—at which she expressed untimely and unthinking surprise—and the whole state of his worldly affairs, not forgetting the temporary nature and cause of his lameness, and his position in life, besides asking her to honour him by the acceptance of a bunch of carnations, which she did with matter-of-fact calm, hardly remembering a hasty "Thank you" when she left him on the stairs.
So the thoughts he confided to the piano in the dusk before dinner that evening were in plaintive minor keys and chords of dissonant intervals slowly resolved.
Ermengarde, who had stolen noiselessly in to listen unseen, was much soothed by this music; she was sure that the thin man was telling the piano of the lost dreams and broken hopes of his youth in those subdued minor melodies and daring, harmonic progressions, till the fair Dorris, flouncing in, loudly pronounced them "Shopping reminiscences," and so broke the charm.
The tale of woe Mrs. Allonby confided to the thin man's paternal ear after dinner evoked tepid sympathy; indeed, it struck her that her filial confidences were but half understood, and that the interest displayed in her affairs was spasmodic and forced. There was clearly something wrong with Mr. Welbourne; had he been losing at the tables, or was it impending gout? Her father was just like that before a fit of gout.
The poor man disappeared early into the solitude of his room, and after pacing the parquet dejectedly for some time, turned on a full light, stood before a mirror, and studied the lines in his face and the grey streaks in his hair. Then he called himself a fool seven times, at uncertain intervals, and finished a drawing he was making of a woman's face.
Chapter XIX
An Act of Justice
No trace of storm remained next morning; it was, on the contrary, a day of brilliant and cloudless calm, a lotus-eating day, made for basking in sunshine and rejoicing only to be alive.
But Miss Boundrish was not content with merely being alive, she wished to be very comfortable as well; and to that end selected the pleasantest spot in the grounds, outside that same shelter of rye-straw whence Ermengarde had overheard scraps of conversation between two strangers on her first day there. Miss Dorris was quite aware of the acoustic properties of the place, whence she had on many occasions derived entertainment and information that she was not unwilling to impart. This little plateau, which was reached by a flight of marble steps, was not always well supplied with seats; on the present occasion, besides some iron chairs only fit to do penance in, there were only two very cosy cushioned wicker arm-chairs with deep low seats to be had. These the young lady arranged along the edge of the little platform immediately over the mule-path, and, sitting in one, put up her feet cosily on the other in such a way that she appropriated nearly the whole front, commanding the fair and extensive prospect seaward and across the mountain gorges. Thus extended at full length, holding up a huge white sunshade, she made an interesting foreground etched upon the purple bloom of distance, and considerately blotted out most of the sunshine and nearly all the view from the shelter. Provided with a novel, a packet of letters, a box of chocolates and the prospect of revelations of human character from people passing on the mule-path, she felt herself securely fortified against attacks of dulness, and surrendered herself with a gentle sigh to the voluptuous charm of a long morning of dolce far niente.