‘Oh, much better!’ said the chorus. ‘It is such a bore generally; just when one is beginning to know people, and to enjoy oneself, one has to pack up and go away; but there are few people, of course, who are so free as you are, dear Mrs. Anderson—you have no duty to call you back. And then you know the Continent so well, and how to travel, and all about it. How I envy you! But it will be such a loss for us. I don’t know what we shall do all the Summer through without you and dear Ombra and Kate. All our pic-nics, and our water-parties, and our croquet, and everything—I don’t know what we shall do——’
‘I suppose you will let the Cottage for the summer?’ said Mrs. Eldridge, who was of a practical mind; ‘and I hope nice people may come. That will be always some consolation for the rest of us; and we cannot grudge our friends their holiday, can we?’ she added, with fine professional feeling, reading a mild lesson to her parishioners, to which everybody replied, with a flutter of protestation, ‘Oh, of course not, of course not!’
Mr. Courtenay assisted at the little ceremonial. He sat all the afternoon in an easy-chair by the window, noting everything with a smile. The tea-table was in the opposite corner, and from four till six there was little cessation in the talk, and in the distribution of cups of tea. He sat and looked on, making various sardonic remarks to himself. Partly by chance, and partly by intention, he had drawn his chair close to that of Ombra, who interested him. He was anxious to understand this member of the household, who gave Kate no caresses, who did nothing to conciliate or please her, but rather spoke sharply to her when she spoke at all. He set this down frankly and openly as jealousy, and determined to be at the bottom of it. Ombra was not a ‘locust.’ She was much more like a secret enemy. He made up his mind that there was some mischief between them, and that Ombra hated the girl whom everybody else, from interested motives, pretended to love; therefore, he tried to talk to her, first, because her gloom amused him, and second, that he might have a chance of finding something out.
‘I have been under a strange delusion,’ he said. ‘I thought there was but a very small population in the Isle of Wight.’
‘Indeed, I don’t know what the number is,’ said Ombra.
‘I should say it must be legion. The room has been three times filled, and still the cry is, they come! And yet I understand you live very quietly, and this is an out-of-the-way place. Places which are in the way must have much more of it. It seems to be that Mayfair is less gay.’
‘I don’t know Mayfair.’
‘Then you have lived always in the country,’ said Mr. Courtenay, blandly. This roused Ombra. She could have borne a graver imputation better, but to be considered a mere rustic, a girl who knew nothing!——
‘On the contrary, I have lived very little in the country,’ she said, with a tone of irritation. ‘But then the towns I have lived in have belonged to a different kind of society than that which, I suppose, you meet with in Mayfair. I have lived in Madrid, Lisbon, Genoa, and Florence——’
‘Ah! in your father’s time,’ said Mr. Courtenay, gently. And the sound of his voice seemed to say to Ombra, ‘In the Consul’s time! Yes, to be sure. Just the sort of places he would be sure to live in.’ Which exasperated her more than she dared show.