“Thank you; I’d like to stay,” she said frankly. “I am so pleased to meet you, for I know all about you. ‘Gervase Farrington Vanburgh’,”—she checked off each word on uplifted fingers, and nodded her head with an air of triumph at the completeness of her information.
“‘The Boundaries, Lipton, Devonshire.’ I have posted ever so many notes to you, and once I addressed an envelope. Perhaps you remember my scrawly writing, with long tails to the letters? We were dreadfully disappointed that Mr Vanburgh had no daughters, for we have not many friends of our own age, but he tried to console us by saying that you were coming to pay him a visit. I asked him especially to arrange it for June, for we shall have our brother home then, and several things going on which will make it livelier than usual. We have made all sorts of plans for your amusement!”
“That is kind; I appreciate it very much. I have heard of you too, and of the pleasure which your acquaintance has given my uncle. He was giving me an account of you all last night, from which I have no difficulty in recognising you from your sisters. You are Miss Lilias!”
“Lilias!—I! Good gracious! Whatever made you think that?” gasped Nan, staring at him with eyes so clear and honest, that, though an adept in the gentle art of flattery, Gervase Vanburgh found himself incapable of explaining the reason of his mistake. He could not tell Nan Rendell that, after hearing Lilias described as the beauty of the family, he had at once identified her with the charming figure whose presence had brought sunshine into the gloomy house. He murmured some vague excuse, while Nan proceeded to expatiate on the difference between herself and her sister. “Lilias is fair, and I am dark; she has golden hair, and is quite grown up and staid and proper. I am supposed to be grown up too, in the afternoons and in the evenings, but the mornings are my own, and then I am disgracefully young, and behave as badly as if I were a child again. I wish I were! I shall never be so happy again as I was in the dear old school-days.” Nan’s eyes roamed wistfully across the road to the porch room, where Elsie’s sleek head could be seen bent over her work, with Agatha and Christabel vaguely outlined at the table; then suddenly her face lit up with mischievous smiles. “If they could only see me!” she told herself ecstatically. “If the girls could see me sitting here talking to this strange young man! They’d have a fit! They’d go crazy with excitement! I must, I must lure him to the window, and let them see us together! They will never believe me unless I do.” She looked up, to meet Gervase’s eyes fixed upon her, and found inspiration in his first remark.
“You are looking at your own house, are you not? It is exactly opposite this, I think. My uncle pointed it out to me last night.”
“Yes, just opposite. It stands on the road, as this one does, but we have a lovely garden behind. You can see a little bit of it from here!” and wily Nan led the way to the window, secure of bringing Gervase in her train, and keeping him in evidence until it pleased her to finish her explanations. The appearance of her own light dress was sufficient to attract Elsie’s attention; but what of the agitation of the three at sight of her companion? Elsie fled into the background—“The better to see you, my dear,”—and Nan’s keen eyes could discern the three patches of white made by the gaping faces, the while she smiled and posed, far more for their benefit than that of her companion. Presently Elsie disappeared, and Nan knew as well as if she had heard the words spoken, that the object of her flight had been to bring the opera-glasses from the drawing-room, when the three would take turns to stare at the stranger, and speculate as to his identity. In the first mischievous enjoyment of the moment she found it impossible to face her companion, but when at last she did venture to meet his glance she was vastly impressed by his appearance. A superfine specimen indeed, this Gervase Vanburgh, with his frock-coat, well-creased trousers, and immaculate linen. Even Nan, the unnoticing, noted the faultlessness of detail which characterised his attire, and had an instant perception that Ned Talbot would look rough and countrified by his side, and even Jim himself suffer from the contrast. Evidently this was a dandy of the first water; yet, despite his languid bearing, his face was full of intelligence, and decision of character was proclaimed in the large nose and square, clean-cut chin.
“What a mercy I tidied my hair!” sighed Nan to herself; and at that moment the door opened, and in came the Italian servant, pushing his master before him in the wheeled chair in which he was moved from one room to another. The invalid was looking more death-like than ever, but his face lighted with pleasure at the sight of Nan, while she ran to the sofa and arranged his cushions with loving solicitude. When he was settled she knelt beside him to exchange greetings, putting her hand on his with a caressing gesture, and he held it firmly while he replied, as if gaining strength from the contact. Gervase Vanburgh thought he had never seen so typical a picture of youth and age as that made by his uncle and the bright-faced girl, and mentally contrasted this welcome with the one given to himself the day before. His uncle had never shown such pleasure on his arrival; but he felt no jealousy of the girl who was so evidently preferred before himself; for, whatever his faults might be, he was free at least from any tinge of self-seeking. The lazy smile lingered on his face as he listened to the exchange of question and answer.
“This is a pleasant surprise, little woman! When did you come across? I did not hear of your arrival.”
“Bounced in ten minutes ago, and had such a fright to find a stranger here instead of you. Why didn’t you send at once to tell me that you were worse?”
“Because I could not have seen you if you had come. On my bad days I am best alone; but I am pulling round again, and am glad to have Gervase’s company. You have made each other’s acquaintance, I see! I suppose neither had much difficulty in guessing the identity of the other.”