If Annette had not been such a recluse, and so totally unacquainted with the ways of young people—the curé and his snuff-box being her sole masculine acquaintance in the Rue St. Joseph—she might have read certain facts from Lottie's shy eagerness and pleased, downcast looks. She might even have adduced the same conclusion from the young lawyer's evident absorption and almost exclusive monopoly of the girl.
In tennis he was her partner, and afterward they walked about the garden together. Every one took it as a matter of course. No one interfered with their tête-à-tête—not even Averil, whose eyes often rested on her protégée with fond wistfulness. "Lottie is very happy," Annette heard her whisper once to Mrs. Harland.
Annette was very pleased to see Mr. Frank again; but she could not be induced to take her first lesson in tennis, though he employed all his eloquence to coax her to become his partner.
"You are bent on snubbing me," he said at last, in mock despair. "You were much more amiable when I met you last, Miss Ramsay, and we exchanged confidences over our vanilla ices."
"That is too bad," she returned, trying not to laugh. "What is it you mean by 'snub?' I do not understand all your English words. It is you who are unkind, Mr. Harland; for you want to make me ridiculous in the eyes of your sister and friends. Ah, yes; it would amuse them to see how often I should miss the ball! They would just clap their hands with the fun. No; I will sit here in the shade and watch you, and that will be my first lesson in tennis; and if you will come to Redfern House, you can teach me there, and Lottie can play with us."
"To be sure! that is a good idea," he said, eagerly; and then, as they called to him, he lifted his cap and ran down the grass slope to the tennis court. Annette kept her promise, and watched the game with intelligent interest. Every now and then Frank came to her to explain things. He was pleased with the girl's naïveté and frankness, and he always left her a little reluctantly when Louie waved her racket, or Ned shouted to him that they were waiting.
He was just making his way to her for the fifth time when he saw her suddenly rise from her seat with a quick exclamation of pleasure at the sight of a gray-haired man who was crossing the lawn in a leisurely, middle-aged fashion.
"Monsieur, it is you at last," she said, holding out her hand. "Oh, how glad I am to see you again!"
Mr. Harland smiled as he cordially responded to her greeting; but the next moment he held her out at arm's-length and critically surveyed her.
"Do you know," he said, in a pleased voice, "that if you had not spoken to me I think I should hardly have recognized my young friend of the Rue St. Joseph? What has she done with herself, Averil?"—in quite a puzzled tone.