“Oh! I am not good at descriptions,” returned Erle, pulling Nero’s long glossy ears. “She is an awfully jolly girl, plenty of go in her, lights up well of an evening, and knows exactly what to say to a fellow—keeps him alive, you know; the sort of girl who will dance like a bird half the night, and get up early the next morning and have an hour’s canter in the park before breakfast.”
“Ah,” in a mystified tone, “she seems a very active young person; but you have not made me see her; is she tall or short, Erle?”
“Well, she is not the tall, scraggy sort, neither is she a diminutive creature, like your ladyship. Miss Selby is medium height, and has a good figure.”
“Yes, and her face?” demanded Fay, with a baby frown; “you are very bad at description, Erle, very bad indeed.”
“Well, she is not dark,” returned Erle, desperately, “not a brunette, I mean; and she is not fair, like the other one, she has brown hair—yes, I am sure it is brown—and good features. Well, I suppose people call her exceedingly handsome, and she dresses well, and holds herself well, and is altogether a pleasant sort of young woman.”
Fay’s lips curled disdainfully. “I do not think I admire your description much, sir. Plenty of go in her; well, who cares for that? and lights up well of an evening, as though she were a ball-room decoration; I think she seems a frivolous sort of creature.”
“Oh, no,” replied Erle, eagerly, for this would not do at all. Fay’s little satire fell very short of the truth. “You have not hit it off exactly; Lady Maltravers is frivolous, if you like—a mild edition of the renowned Mrs. Skewton, thinks of nothing but diamonds, and settlements, and all the vanities for which your worldly woman sells her soul. It is a great wonder that, with such an example before her eyes, Miss Selby is not as bad herself; but she is a wonderfully sensible girl, and never talks that sort of nonsense; why, she goes to early service, and looks after some poor people: not that she ever mentions these facts, for she is not a goody-goody sort at all.”
“Oh, no, she has too much go in her,” returned Fay, calmly. “I was quite right when I said that she was an active young person; and now about the other one, Erle?”
“Well,” Erle began again, but this time he utterly broke down; for how was he to describe this girl with her beautiful frank mouth, and her soft smiling eyes; he had never found out their color at all; would Fay understand if he told her of the sprightliness and sweetness that, in his opinion, made Fern so peculiarly attractive to him. But, to his astonishment, Fay grasped the whole situation in a moment.
“Oh, you need not tell me, you poor boy,” she said, with a knowing nod of her head; “so it is not the young lady with the go in her, though she does dance like a bird; it is this other one with the fair hair and the pretty smile.”