Chapter Fifty One.
Under the Deodara.
The birthday of Blanche Vernon did not terminate the festivities at her father’s house.
On the second day after, there was a dinner-party of like splendid appointment, succeeded by dancing.
It was the season of English rural enjoyment, when crops had been garnered, and rents paid; when the farmer rests from his toil, and the squire luxuriates in his sports.
Again in Vernon Hall were noble guests assembled; and again the inspiring strains of harp and violin told time to the fantastic gliding of feet.
And again Maynard danced with the baronet’s daughter.
She was young to take part in such entertainments. But it was her father’s house, and she was an only daughter—hence almost necessitated at such early age to play mistress of the mansion.
True to her promise, she had read the romance, and declared her opinion of it to the anxious author.
She liked it, though not enthusiastically. She did not say this. Only from her manner could Maynard tell there was a qualification. Something in the book seemed not to have satisfied her. He could not conjecture what it was. He was too disappointed to press for an explanation.