This was his account of himself; perhaps it would have been more strictly accurate, had he said that he had volunteered the service, which otherwise the groom would have performed alone; and that, though feeling a natural interest in the welfare of a young lady in such circumstances as Hilary, he yet thought and cared a great deal more about her sister. His fancy had been strangely captivated by the tall, handsome girl, whose appearance and manners had haunted his memory, and formed the principal subject of his conversation with Doro Barham all the morning.
Sybil turned when he joined her, and walked toward the house, from which they were distant about a quarter of a mile; giving him, as they went along, first, an answer to his inquiries
after her sister; and then a voluntary detail of her regret at parting with Captain Hepburn, whom they all valued so highly.
Mr. Farrington listened with real interest to the account of the family obligations to the gallant officer, and readily conceded that they owed him great gratitude for an amount of benefit not often bestowed by one person. He would have admired and applauded kindness and courage under any circumstances; but when the narrative was enforced by the bright flash of those dark eyes, and the peculiarly sweet tones of the voice which recounted it, his enthusiastic appreciation of Captain Hepburn’s merits was quite equal to what even Sybil considered right and becoming.
Her energetic eloquence was interrupted by a slight incident: glancing upward as she spoke, and quite forgetting all minor considerations, she hit her foot against a projecting root, and was very nearly thrown down on her face: she was not hurt, only a little confused at her awkwardness, as she called it; but the gentleman persuaded her to take his arm after that, and the abrupt pause which ensued was broken by his starting another topic, namely, that he had to return to London the next morning, having only come down to the Abbey for a couple of days, for the sake of Mr. Huyton’s party.
This information by no means disturbed Sybil in the way in which Captain Hepburn’s departure had affected her. She had found Mr. Farrington a pleasant companion, but she had not expected even to see him a second time, and there was neither any surprise or regret visible, when he talked of going. It seemed to her simply natural. He talked of regret, and said a good deal about his memory lingering amid the green shades of “the Ferns,” and his wish to visit this country again; to which Sybil listened quietly, and presently observed, “If he liked it so much, what would prevent his coming?” He could not construe her remark into any thing approaching to conscious encouragement; she did not seem to have an idea that she had the least to do with his coming or wishing to come: he found this natural simplicity particularly captivating, and his admiration for her
mind increased as much as his conviction for her uncommon beauty did. He thought her more lovely by day-light, in a simple morning dress, than he had done the evening before, in her more elaborate toilette.
In spite of all his efforts to lengthen out the walk, by stopping to admire glens in the park, or remarkably fine trees, or to conjecture the date of the mansion, she yet proceeded so decidedly onward, with so evident a resolution to reach the house, that he was compelled to suppose her quite indifferent to any peculiar charm in his society, or very strictly correct in her notions of propriety and etiquette. He tried to flatter himself rather it was the latter, as she was evidently very young, and young girls, he believed, are always either rigidly prudent, or immensely careless about decorum; but he could not quite convince himself that this was the fact; he was too diffident, indeed, to be very certain on this point.
On she walked, at least, straight into the house, and never lingered till they reached the saloon where Mrs. Fielding and her daughter were sitting. Then she quietly said that she would go up and learn the very latest tidings of Hilary, for Isabel and Dora’s benefit, seeming to expect he would instantly start off to the Abbey with the report. The interval was employed by him in learning from Victoria all the particulars relative to the expected visit of Mr. Duncan, whom Charles hoped to bring back with him; an announcement which excited so strong a wish in Mr. Farrington to see the clergyman, that the ladies proposed at once that he should stay and lunch at “the Ferns,” sending the groom back to the Abbey with the report he had come to fetch.
No pressing was needed to elicit a very ready acceptance of this proposition; and, to say the truth, Victoria was as glad of the company of a pleasant and gentlemanlike young man, as he could be to stay. The morning after a fête is generally flat and dull; and if a gentleman desires to make his presence thoroughly appreciated, he should contrive to drop in on such an occasion, among a family party in the country.