Lewis, turning very red under Skelton’s eye, opened the note and read it, afterwards putting it into his pocket with studied carelessness. Glancing up, he saw Skelton’s gaze, usually so serious, fixed, half laughingly, upon him.
“You have the advantage of me, Lewis,� said Skelton, smiling; “I have never been honoured with a note from Miss Shapleigh.�
“Perhaps, sir,� answered Lewis, after a pause, “you never sent Miss Shapleigh any flowers.�
Skelton was secretly delighted with the aptness of the boy’s reply, and remarked pleasantly:
“That is true. You seem, however, to have got the start of me in that respect too.�
Lewis, for the first time in his life before Skelton’s face, burst out laughing. Skelton started with surprise. He scarcely knew the boy possessed a laugh so fresh, so merry, so boyish. Then, blushing violently, Lewis relapsed into silence, but those few words and the laugh had in some way shown him that the barrier between Skelton and himself was not so icy after all.
Bulstrode teased the boy unceasingly about his bouquet, but Lewis was not to be turned from his liking by teasing. Soon after the bouquet episode he wrote a note in his best hand and carefully copied from the Complete Letter-writer, inviting Sylvia to take a sail in his boat. Sylvia accepted, and the next morning she was promptly on hand as the boat touched the wharf at Belfield.
Lewis was delighted. It was his first taste of responsibility, and the idea that this charming creature should trust herself with him in his boat seemed to make a man of him at once. Skelton, glancing out of the library window, saw Lewis sitting in the stern by Sylvia, who was steering, while Service, the dog, sat between them, his paws on Lewis’s knee.
Sylvia might have brought her whole battery of charms to bear on Skelton with less effect than by her simple kindness to Lewis. Skelton watched them as the boat sailed gaily past in the dazzling morning, and something like a blessing on her stirred his heart. He did not wish to be with them; on the contrary, he felt that he could more indulge his pleasure at a distance than if he was present, but he felt a profound and tender gratitude to Sylvia for her kindness to the boy. In the same way he silently but bitterly resented Mrs. Blair’s not having once brought or sent Hilary to Deerchase.
The next time he met Sylvia—which was when riding along the road one afternoon—he stopped her, and she was surprised at the cordiality of his greeting.