"How dull we shall be without you," said Lady Anne.
Mr. St. John smiled, and raised his soft dark eyes to hers. The fingers of one thin hand had been wandering amidst the crumbs of his bread, putting them into circles or squares: a habit of his when he talked at table, though perhaps an unconscious one. He did not eat much, and had generally finished long before others.
"I hope, Anne, you and Mrs. St. John will have some one here by Thursday, who will be a more effectual remedy for dulness than I could be at my best. Mrs. St. John, I am expecting Frederick."
"Oh!" The mother's heart leaped within her; the bright flush of expectancy rose to her cheek; a fair and soft cheek still, for all her fifty years. "When?"
"I hope he will be here today. I think he may even have come by this morning's train. I wish to see him on a little matter of business, and have written to him to come down. Are you glad, Anne?"
"I am more glad than I can tell you," was the warm, eager answer. "I wish he could be here always."
Ah, Isaac St. John, why that inward glow of satisfaction at the words? Are you so little skilled in the signs of love as not to read them more correctly? Don't you know that if there were any love, of the sort you have been hoping, in that fair girl's heart, she would go by the rules of contrary, and protest that it was a matter of perfect indifference to her whether Mr. Frederick came or not? There is no blush on her cheek; there is no faltering in her tone: why should you deceive yourself?
The surmise was correct: Frederick St. John had come down by the morning's express train. You may see him as he walks out of the station at Lexington: it is that tall, slender, aristocratic man, with dark hair, pale refined features, and eyes of the deepest blue. The people at the station touch their hats to him and smile a greeting, and he smiles and nods at them in return, kindly, genially, as if he really thanked them for their welcome. There was neither heartlessness nor hypocrisy in Frederick St. John: he was a true gentleman at heart.
"Would you like a fly, sir? I don't see any carriage come down for you."
"No, thank you, Williams. I prefer walking such a day as this. Is Mr. St. John well, do you happen to know?"