"Yes, Grey-Mount is a dear old house; and all the Harlands are nice. They are very dear friends of mine, Annette, and one day I must take you to see them. A day at Grey-Mount always does me good. And there is another place—Well, Frank"—as that individual made his way to them rather hastily.
"I have shaken off that young puppy, Fred Courtland. I hate fellows who scent themselves. Faugh! You have been talking for the last two hours, and I dare say no one has thought of getting you a cup of tea."
"No, never mind." returned Averil, smiling. "The signora is going to sing again, and I must not leave the room just now. No, indeed, Frank," as he seemed determined to argue the point. "Let me listen to her first, and then I will go with you."
"All right. But please understand that I am to have the monopoly of your conversation. No followers allowed at present." And to Annette's amusement he coolly took up his position so as to fence Annette completely from notice, and his monopoly of conversation consisted of an unbroken silence. Averil seemed perfectly satisfied with this arrangement. She leaned back in her chair and listened to the song, and a more rested look came upon her face as the high, pure notes of the signora's voice floated through the room.
Some degree of attention was paid to the gifted young vocalist; but just at the last a group outside the window, beside which Frank Harland was standing, began talking rather too audibly.
"Miss Seymour," observed a languid, drawling voice, "I wish you could inform me where I can find my hostess. It is awkward, to say the least of it, when one has no conception of a person."
"I do not see her at present," returned Maud, coldly. "It will not be easy to find her in this crowd. A very small person in black. That is the only description I can give you, Captain Faucit. A plain, homely little body like Miss Willmot is not very easy to describe."
"No, indeed!" and here Mrs. Willmot's smooth voice chimed in. "My step-daughter is a sad invalid, Captain Faucit. Dear Averil is quite a recluse. One can not wonder at it"—dropping her voice, although every word was distinctly audible. "With her affliction, poor girl, her want of health, and her deformity, the world offers few attractions."
"Now for the tea, Averil!" exclaimed Mr. Frank, briskly. He had set his teeth hard for a moment, and his hand was clinched, as though it longed to do injury to some one; but the next moment he was leaning over Averil's chair with a gentle, brotherly sort of freedom. "Come," he said, touching her cold little hand. "A cup of strong tea—that is my mother's panacea for all ills."
Averil rose and took his arm without a word. There was a dark, pained flush on her face, a strained look in her eyes, as though the cruel words had gone home. Annette looked after her pitifully. She could see that kind Mr. Frank was still talking to her. He was very tall, and had to stoop a good deal.