The Lady Mary rose, a faint color in her cheeks, a sparkle in her fine eyes. A great joy flashed into Mr. Caryll's in quick response; a joy in her—she thought with ready vanity—and a heightening admiration.
“Will you make it yours, as it should be—as it must ever be—to lead and not to follow?” he cried, flattering incredibility trembling in his voice.
“And why not, sir?” she demanded, now thoroughly aroused.
“Why not, indeed—since you are you?” quoth he. “It is what I had hoped in you, and yet—and yet what I had almost feared to hope.”
She frowned upon him now, so excellently had he done his work. “Why should you have feared that?”
“Alas! I am a man of little faith—unworthy, indeed, your good opinion since I entertained a doubt. It was a blasphemy.”
She smiled again. “You acknowledge your faults with such a grace,” said she, “that we must needs forgive them. And now to show you how much you need forgiveness. Come, children,” she bade her cousins—for whose innocence she had made apology but a moment back. “Your arm, Harry,” she begged her brother-in-law.
Sir Harry obeyed her readily, but without eagerness. In his heart he cursed his friend Caryll for having set her on to this.
Mr. Caryll himself hung upon her other side, his eyes toward Lady Ostermore and Hortensia, who, whilst being observed by all, were being approached by few; and these few confined themselves to an exchange of greetings with her ladyship, which constituted a worse offence to Mistress Winthrop than had they stayed away.
Suddenly, as if drawn by his ardent gaze, Hortensia's eyes moved at last from their forward fixity. Her glance met Mr. Caryll's across the intervening space. Instantly he swept off his hat, and bowed profoundly. The action drew attention to himself. All eyes were focussed upon him, and between many a pair there was a frown for one who should dare thus to run counter to the general attitude.