"I came with old John to fetch you, Lucy, wishing to see dear Mrs. Blake," she carelessly said in explanation, letting her hand lie in Karl's, as they turned to the house. "And it is a lovely night."
Coming into the light of the sitting-room you could see what Miss Blake was like--and Lucy, also, for that matter. Miss Blake was tall, upright; and; if there was a fault in her exceedingly well-made figure, it was that it was too thin. Her features and complexion
were very good, her eyes were watchful and had a green tinge; and
the hair originally red, had been converted into a kind of auburn that had more than one shade of colour on it. Altogether, Miss Blake was nice-looking; and she invariably dressed well, in the height of any fashion that might prevail. What with her well-preserved face, her large quantity of youthful hair, and her natty attire, she had an idea that she looked years and years less than her real age; as in fact she did.
And Lucy? Lucy was a gentle girl with a soft, sweet face; a face of intellect, and goodness, and sensibility. Her refined features were of the highest type; her clear eyes were of a remarkably light brown, the long eyelashes and the hair somewhat darker. By the side of the upright and always self-possessed Miss Blake--I had almost written self-asserting--she looked a timid shrinking child. What with Miss Blake's natural height and the unnatural pyramid of hair on the top of her head, Lucy appeared short. But Lucy was not below the middle height of women.
"I wonder--I wonder how much he has seen of Lucy?" thought Miss Blake, beginning to watch and to listen, and to put in prompting questions here and there.
She contrived to gather that the lieutenant had been a tolerably frequent visitor at Colonel Cleeve's during the spring. She
observed--and Miss Blake's observance was worth having--that his good night to Lucy was spoken in a different tone from the one to herself: lower and softer.
"There cannot be anything between them! There cannot, surely, be!"
Nevertheless the very thought of it caused her face to grow cold as with a mortal sickness.
"I shall see to-morrow," she murmured. "They will be together at the picnic, and I shall see."
Miss Blake did see. Saw what, to her jealous eyes--ay, and to her cool ones; was proof positive. Lieutenant Andinnian and Miss Lucy Cleeve were lost in love the one for the other. In her conscientious desire to do her duty--and she did hope and believe that no other motive or passion prompted the step--Miss Blake, looking upon herself as a sort of guardian over Lucy's interests, disclosed her suspicions to Mrs. Cleeve. What would be a suitable match for herself, might be entirely unsuitable for Lucy.
Colonel Augustus and the Honourable Mrs. Cleeve were very excellent people, as people go: their one prominent characteristic--perhaps some would rather call it failing--being family pride. Colonel Cleeve could claim relationship, near or remote, with three lords and a Scotch duke: Mrs. Cleeve was a peer's daughter. Their only son was in India with his regiment: their only daughter, introduced and presented but the last year, was intended to make a good marriage, both as regards rank and wealth. They knew what a charming girl she was, and they believed she could not fail to be sought. One gentleman, indeed, had asked for her in London; that is, had solicited of the Colonel the permission to ask for her. He was a banker's son. Colonel Cleeve thanked him with courtesy, but said that his daughter must not marry beneath her own rank: he and her mother hoped she would be a peeress. It may therefore be judged what was the consternation caused, when Miss Blake dropped a hint of her observations.