'No one but Michael could take Michael's place,' as she told him a little pathetically that first evening.
But when a few days had elapsed she became aware that things were not quite the same between them—that the Michael who had come back to her was not exactly the old Michael.
The old Michael had been somewhat of an autocrat—a good-natured autocrat, certainly, who tyrannised over her for her own good, and who assumed the brotherly right of inquiring into all her movements and small daily plans. They had always been much together, especially since Geraldine's marriage had deprived her of sisterly companionship; and it had been an understood thing in the Ross family that where Audrey was, Michael was generally not far off.
Under these circumstances, it was therefore quite natural that Audrey should expect her cousin to resume his usual habits. She had counted on his companionship during the hours Cyril was engaged in his schoolroom duties. In old times Michael had often accompanied her on her visits to her various protégées; he had always been her escort to the garden-parties that were greatly in vogue at Rutherford, or he would drive her to Brail or some of the outlying towns or villages where she had business.
It was somewhat of a disappointment, then, to find that Michael had suddenly turned over a new leaf, and was far too occupied to be at her beck and call. Kester came to him almost daily, and it became his custom to spend the remainder of the morning in Dr. Ross's study. He had a habit, too, of writing his letters after luncheon; in fact, he was seldom disengaged until the evening, when he was always ready to take his place in the family circle.
Audrey accused herself of selfishness. Of course she ought to be glad that Michael's health had so much improved. Her father was always remarking on the change in a tone of satisfaction.
'He is like the old Mike,' he said once; 'he has taken a new departure, and has shaken off his listlessness. Why, he works quite steadily now for hours without knocking up. He is a different man. He takes a class for me every morning; it does me good to see him with half a dozen boys round him. Blake will have to look out for himself; he is hardly as popular as the Captain.'
Audrey took herself to task severely when her father said this. It was evident that Michael had spoilt her. She was determined not to monopolise him so selfishly; but, somehow, when it came to the point, she was always forgetting these good resolutions.
And another thing puzzled Audrey: Michael was certainly quieter than he used to be; when they were alone—which was a rare occurrence now—he seemed to have so little to say to her. Sometimes he would take up his book and read out a few passages, but if she begged him to put it down and talk to her instead, he would dispute the point in the most tiresome fashion.
'I think people talk too much, nowadays,' he would say in his lazy way; 'it is all lip-service now. If women would only cultivate their minds a little more, and learn to hold their tongues until they have something worth saying, the world would not be flooded with all this muddy small-talk. Now, for example, if you would allow me to read you this fine passage from Emerson.'