“It would never do, you know; he is only a boy,” Aunt Griselda observed, plaintively; “and Fay will be so rich one of these days.”
“Oh! it would never do at all,” responded Hugh, hastily. The idea of Frank Lumsden annoyed him. What business had all these impertinent fellows to be staring at Fay in church? He should like to send them all about their own business, he thought; for though hardly a week had passed, Hugh was beginning to feel a strong interest in Fay.
He had not spoken to her again on that first visit; but after a time she had joined them in the porch, and had sat down demurely by Aunt Griselda, and had busied herself with some work. Hugh could not make her speak to him, but he had a good look at her.
She had laid aside her broad-brimmed hat, and he saw the beautiful little head was covered with soft curly brown hair, that waved naturally over the temples. It was coiled gracefully behind, but no amount of care or pains could have smoothed those rippling waves.
He wished more than once that he could have seen her eyes again, but she kept them fixed on her embroidery; only when anything amused her a charming dimple showed on one cheek. It was the prettiest dimple he had ever seen, and he caught himself trying to say something that would bring it again. Hugh paid a long visit, and in a few days he came again. He was staying at Cooksley, he told them carelessly; and if they would allow it, he added courteously, he should like to walk over to Daintree and see them sometimes.
Miss Mordaunt gave him gracious permission, and Fay looked shyly pleased; and so it came that Hugh called daily at the cottage.
He sent for his horses presently, and drove Miss Mordaunt and her niece to all the beautiful spots in the neighborhood; and he joined Fay in her canters through the lanes, and found fault with Fairy, much to her little mistress’s dismay; but Fay blushed very prettily when one day a beautiful little chestnut mare, with a lady’s side-saddle, was brought to the cottage-door, where Fay was waiting in her habit.
“I want you to try Bonnie Bell,” he said, carelessly, as he put her on her saddle. “You ride perfectly, and Fairy is not half good enough for you;” and Fay was obliged to own that she had never had such a ride before; and Hugh had noticed that people had turned round to look at the beautiful little figure on the chestnut mare.
“I shall bring her every day for you to ride—she is your own property, you know,” Hugh said, as he lifted Fay to the ground; but Fay had only tried to hide her blushing face from his meaning look, and had run into the house.
Hugh was beginning to make his intentions very clear. When he walked with Fay in the little lane behind the cottage he did not say much, but he looked very kindly at her. The girl’s innocent beauty—her sweet face and fresh ripple of talk—came soothingly to the jaded man. He began to feel an interest in the gentle unsophisticated little creature. She was very young, very ignorant, and childish—she had absolutely no knowledge of the world or of men—but somehow her very innocence attracted him.