"Well, rather," laughing. "It won't do to bring it in head and shoulders. I must stay a little while first and watch my opportunity."
Bluebell walked with him to the station next day. It was freezing hard—a bright, bracing morning; and when he had taken his place, and the train had whistled off, she was shocked to find how her spirits rose. Of course, she told herself it was because there would soon be no occasion for concealment; but there was a sensation of present relief not quite to be accounted for by that.
Young people care quite as much as their elders for occasional solitude—more, perhaps, for they have generally brighter thoughts to fill it. Bluebell, from the reasons before mentioned, in her anxious compliance with his every whim, had become quite a slave to Harry, and a little breathing-time was far from unwelcome. After all, she had a good deal exaggerated his sacrifice, which was made entirely to please himself!
Leaving the road, Bluebell struck a path across some fields leading to the river, and amused herself throwing sticks for Archie to fetch off its half-frozen surface—a diversion which soon palled on the Skye, who was not fond of water; so Bluebell wandered on, soliloquizing, as usual. Suppose this uncle, who loomed in her imagination like some dread Genie in his disposition over their fate should receive the intelligence by cutting off the supplies and hurling maledictions at Harry's head, what on earth would they do? She had always been very fond of acting,—indeed, had been quite an authority in drawing-room theatricals and charades at "The Maples," and with her magnificent powerful voice, what a pity she could not go on the stage! She had read in novels of girls offering themselves to a manager and realizing fabulous sums, and eighteen pounds a year seemed to be her net value in the governess market. Then Harry might go to sea for a year or two,—they were both so young,—and by that time things might look brighter, or the Genie relent.
She and Archie had a good time that bright winter day, and tired themselves out completely. He could pass from the immediate enjoyment of a meal to a snooze on the rug before the fire; but after Bluebell had had some tea, there remained many hours at her disposal before bed-time. She would have liked to have written a long letter to her mother; but if it must be worded so guardedly, where was the good? So she flew to her unfailing friend, the piano, and interpreted Schumann and Beethoven to a late hour, while the carpenter and his wife, listening in the kitchen, "wished that the lady would play something with a bit of tune in it, and not be always practising them exercises."
CHAPTER XXXI.
BROMLEY TOWERS.
Had yon ever a cousin, Tom'
And did that cousin happen to sing'
Sisters we have by the dozen,
But a cousin's a different thing
Hon. Mrs. Norton.