Blanche happened at the moment to be standing in the full light, and as she looked down in calm response to the little woman’s greeting, even obtuse Lady Harriot was struck by her incontestable beauty.
“She stood there like a picture,” said one of the others present, when describing the momentary scene, and though the words were childish, they expressed the feeling.
Nevertheless, “the picture” was the first to take in the whole situation.
“Mamma,” she said quietly, “I scarcely think Lady Harriot Dunstan recognises us.”
“Oh yes, I do; at least I—I’m sure I’ve seen you before,” began Lady Harriot, in a nearer approach to flutter than was usual with her. For, after all, she was “a lady born,” as the poor folk express it, and conscious of the obligations of a hostess. “I’m sure I—”
“You were so good as to come to see us when we were staying temporarily at Blissmore,” said Mrs Derwent clearly. “I believe you did so at Mrs Lilford’s request. And I should apologise for not having returned your call sooner, but till quite lately we have been in the agonies of furnishing and moving into our house.”
A light broke over Lady Harriot’s face, but with the illumination her slight diffidence disappeared. She relapsed into her stolid, self-satisfied self, and the change was not an improvement.
“Oh yes, I thought I’d seen you before,” she said. “I’ve been away, but you needn’t have minded. I told the housekeeper after I saw you that you might be coming over to see the—”
“Aunt Harriot,” said a masculine voice, suddenly breaking in at this juncture, “excuse me, but is there any reason why your friends and you should be standing all this time? If you specially want to remain in that part of the room, may I not at least bring some chairs forward?”