Bonnybell looked startled. Mrs. Tancred’s complexion had never presented itself to the girl’s eye or mind, except as a harmonious part of her general ugliness. That its leaden pallor had any relation to ill health had never struck her. Something gravely amiss with Camilla! Did that mean that before long she was going to die? To do Miss Ransome justice, her first sensation when this idea presented itself was one of regret. Poor old Camilla! with her doughty championship against the Aylmers, and her handsome presents, and her tip, and that shamed and hurried yet motherly parting kiss! Poor dear old Camilla! It was only that second thought, which, despite the praising adage, is often a shabby thing, which presented the image of what would be the consequence of the extinction of the harsh old kindliness that had sheltered and fought for her! Edward with his handcuffs knocked off! Edward able conscientiously to let himself go! Whither? There could be little doubt as to the answer!
“I do not think I noticed any difference,” she replied slowly, seeing that her interlocutor was awaiting a response.
“I am very much relieved to hear you say so,” rejoined Lady Bletchley, as easily reassured as we all are when our hearts are not much engaged. “Of course, you, who have been seeing her daily, are a far better judge than I. No doubt it was the effect of some passing fatigue which frightened me. I have been rather wretched about her, as, apart from the real regard I have for her, I cannot imagine what would become of Edward if anything were to happen to her!”
Miss Ransome bent her head in sympathetic acquiescence. “What a ridiculous misrepresentation! and how unnecessary!” she said to herself. She did not think the least the worse of Lady Bletchley for telling a lie, but felt a gentle pity for her for having produced such a poor specimen.
“But come, do not let us talk of sad things to-day of all days!” continued the matron, allowing her voice to resume a prosperous cheerfulness which came very naturally to it, and giving a final squeeze to Bonnybell’s fingers before dismissing them.
“No, indeed!”—following her companion’s lead with her usual sweet pliability. “And I have not congratulated you yet!”—with a pretty hesitating smile and a slight glance at the complimentary mourning.
“What about?”—with a rather transparent assumption of oblivion of her new honours.
“What about?” repeated Bonnybell, with a wise though inwardly amused air of being taken in by this simple affectation. “But I know how unworldly you always are!”
Lady Bletchley accepted this tribute as no more than her due.
“I will own to you that Tom is unaffectedly pleased—very sorry for the poor fellow’s untimely fate, of course, but otherwise, very happy about it all. As for me, I frankly told him that I could see no great cause for elation in having to change a very old name for a rather Brummagem title.”