She was sitting on the open moor, and Michael was stretched on the heather beside her, with Kester at a little distance, buried as usual in his book; Booty was amusing himself by following rather inquisitively the slow movements of a bee that was humming over the heather. The three had been spending a tranquil afternoon together, while Dr. Ross and his son-in-law had started for a certain long walk, which they declared no woman ought to attempt.
Audrey was not sorry to be left with Michael. It had been her intention from the first to devote herself to him; and dearly as she loved these rambles with her father, she was quite as happy talking to Michael. Audrey's dangerous gift of sympathy—dangerous because of its lack of moderation—always enabled her to throw herself into other people's interests; it gave her positive happiness to see Michael so tranquil and content, and carrying himself with the air of a man who knows himself to be anchored in some fair haven after stress of weather; and, indeed, these were halcyon days to Michael.
He had Audrey's constant companionship, and never had the girl been sweeter to him. The delicious moorland air, the free life, the absence of any care or worry, braced his worn nerves and filled his pulses with a sense of returning health. He felt comparatively well and strong, and woke each morning with a sense of enjoyment and well-being. Even Audrey's long absences did not trouble him over-much, for there was always the pleasure of her return. He and Kester could always amuse themselves until the time came for him and Geraldine to stroll to their trysting-place.
'Here we are, Michael!' Audrey would say, with her sudden bright smile, that seemed to light up the landscape. Somehow, he had never admired her so much as he did now in her neat tweed dress, and the deerstalker cap that sat so jauntily on her brown hair. How lightly she walked! how full of life and energy she was! No mountain-bred lass had a freer step, a more erect carriage.
When Audrey made her little speech about her sister's happiness, Michael looked up with a sort of lazy surprise in his eyes.
'Well, are not married people generally happy?' he asked. 'At least, the world gives them credit for happiness. Fancy turning bankrupt at nine or ten months!'
'Oh, there will be no bankruptcy in their case. Gage is a thoroughly contented woman. Do you know, Michael, I begin to think Percival a good fellow myself. I never saw quite so much of him before, and he is really very companionable.'
'Come, now, I have hopes of you. Then why this dubious tone in alluding to their matrimonial felicity?'
'Oh, I don't know!' with a slight blush. 'I believe it makes me a little impatient if people talk too much about it. Mother and Gage are perpetually haranguing on such subjects as this; they are always hinting, or saying out openly, that such a girl had better be married. Now, it is all very well, but there are two sides to every question, and I do think old maids have a great many privileges. No one seems to think of the delights of freedom.'
'I believe we have heard these sentiments before. Kester, my son, go on with your book; this sort of conversation is not intended for good little boys.'