He had to reply in the negative to both questions, and the slight but amusing twist that she gave her features on receiving his answer made him not as alive as he ought to have been to the knowledge that she would not have dared to make that grimace in Camilla’s presence.
The Tancreds had a small side gallery, entered by a private door in the church, set apart for them, where for generations they had worshipped in comfortable apartness, owners and guests—with a superior view of the congregation—in front, and servants ranged in decorous rows behind.
To-day, as Edward had foreseen, they were late, and—the good old days of waiting for the entrance of the “Wicked Man” by the parson being gone—it was upon an assemblage of bent heads that Miss Bonnybell’s cautiously roving eye alighted. What a sparse congregation! and what an immense space separated her from Edward when each was ensconced in his and her distant corner of the long seat. That space was obviously intended to be occupied by a numerous progeny—Edward and Camilla’s family. She gave an irreverent inward chuckle at the thought of a row of prim little boys and bony girls fashioned in Camilla’s image.
Then a panic seized her. Was a visible smile, produced by this tickling idea, showing itself on her face, to be seen now that everybody was standing up again? At once she composed her features to an expression of devout melancholy, which, being—as she had not a glass whereby to regulate the amount—a little overdone, made Edward pityingly reflect, when he occasionally glanced at her during the sermon, that, despite that playful gaiety of disposition which broke out every now and then, her terrible past had written its name indelibly upon her tiny features.
Those veracious indicators allowed themselves to relax a little from their pious gloom, as their owner lightly trod her homeward way, and cast about for something suitable to say regarding the service. If she could also obtain a little useful information by the way no harm would be done.
“What a dear little church!”
“Yes, it is rather an interesting specimen of Transitional.”
“Built in the time of Edward the Confessor, did you say?”
“Well, not quite”—with a smile.
“And what a nice congregation!”