"Who would have taken you for such an actress!" said the peer, in rather ambiguous accents.
Bluebell looked up desperately; her expression was ingenuous, but half imploring.
"Such nerve and command of countenance!" rhapsodized his Lordship, with the same odd fixed look and sarcastic inflection of voice. "The idea of the plot so perfectly conceived and played out! Had you much practice—in Canada."
"I have played in charades and small pieces," wondering how he knew she had been in Canada.
"But you never really acted till you came to England? How long was that ago?"
"Some time now," confusedly.
"Nearly two years, perhaps?"
"About that—no, not quite so much," more and more perplexed by his manner.
"I hope you'll come down, and sing to us to-night. Miss Leigh. I am not sure I don't prefer that accomplishment for young ladies—it is safer." He turned away, leaving Bluebell in bewilderment.
Kate, recovered by a night's rest, would consent to no more seclusion; the blow was not much of a disfigurement now, and she was making an immense fuss over Harry, which suited him well enough to encourage, as he rather repented the imprudently frequent dances with Geraldine, and felt embarrassed in her society this morning.