The tea-table became the nucleus of the whole room before long. Even Mr. Frere, a tall scholarly-looking man, with spectacles and a very bald head, though he was still young, seemed drawn magnetically into the circle that closed round Phillis. The girl was so natural and sprightly, there was such buoyancy and brightness in her manner; and yet no man could ever have taken a liberty with her, or mistaken the source of that pure rippling fun. The light jesting tone, the unembarrassed manner, were as free from consciousness as though there were gray-headed dons round her. And yet, alas for Phillis! there was not a word uttered in a certain voice that did not reach her ear somehow; not a movement that was lost upon her, even when she chatted and laughed with those who stood round her.
Colonel Middleton was stanch to his little favorite, and sat on the couch between her and Grace, while Nan and Miss Middleton talked apart. Nan watched the tea-table smilingly. She did so love to see Phillis happy; it never occurred to her to feel herself a little neglected, or to wonder why the grave young master of the house so seldom addressed her: thoughts of this sort never entered Nan’s head.
But she grew a little silent by and by, and began to answer Elizabeth somewhat absently. She did not know what it meant, but a certain strong longing took possession of her,—a sort of craving to see Dick’s face and hear his voice. It was foolish, of course; and then she roused herself with difficulty.
“How late Harry is! I wonder if the train be really snowed up! Oh, that must be he!” as the door-bell sounded. “Mattie will be glad; she was so afraid the coffee would be cold.” For Mattie had poured this grievance into every one’s ears.
Of course it was Sir Harry. Yes, as the door opened, there were the broad, genial face and the massive shoulders that could 334 only belong to one person. And who was this young man following him,—a somewhat insignificant young man compared to this son of Anak,—a young man with sandy hair, with a trivial moustache, with a free, careless expression of good-nature that seemed somehow stamped on his features?
Nan did not speak or move in her corner; but she locked her hands together tightly, and a most wonderful blush came to her face; for the young man’s eyes had moved quickly round the room, with an eager expression in them, and had just rested upon her.
Nan sat immovable while Sir Harry, gave the necessary introduction in his loud, jovial voice:
“I am sorry to be late,—I am, ’pon my honor, Miss Mattie! but it could not be helped: could it, Mayne? Mr. Drummond, I have taken the liberty to bring a friend with me; he is my guest at present,—Mr. Richard Mayne. He has come down to Hadleigh to see some old acquaintances of his.”
“Dick! Oh, Dick!” the words would come out now. Miss Middleton had judiciously vacated the corner of the couch, and Dick had boldly placed himself there instead, after first touching Nan’s trembling hand. “What does it mean? Why have you startled me so?” she whispered, for they were in a snug corner, and no one was near them.
“I suppose a man has a right to come and look after his own belongings?” returned Dick, in the coolest possible manner. But his eyes were more eloquent than his words, as usual. “How lovely you are looking, Nan! I do believe you grow prettier every day. And are you glad to see me?—half or a quarter as glad as I am to see you?”