“In that case you must pull down and rebuild; clear, alter, and improve!”
“Let us make a plan!” cried the young countess. “Let us mark out the future garden of my domains.”
It was decreed that this party of pleasure should be unsuccessful. At that moment a heavy cloud burst, and a close fine rain began to fall. Impossible to leave the house.
“How very vexatious!” cried Madame de Moncar. “What shall we do with ourselves? The horses require several hours’ rest. It will evidently be a wet afternoon. For a week to come, the grass, which overgrows everything, will not be dry enough to walk upon; all the strings of the piano are broken; there is not a book within ten leagues. This room is wretchedly dismal. What can we do with ourselves?”
The party, lately so joyous, was gradually losing its gaiety. The blithe laugh and arch whisper were succeeded by dull silence. The guests sauntered to the windows and examined the sky, but the sky remained dark and cloud-laden. Their hopes of a walk were completely blighted. They established themselves as comfortably as they could upon the old chairs and settees, and tried to revive the conversation; but there are thoughts which, like flowers, require a little sun, and which will not flourish under a bleak sky. All these young heads appeared to droop, oppressed by the storm, like the poplars in the garden, which bowed their tops at the will of the wind. A tedious hour dragged by.
The lady of the castle, a little disheartened by the failure of her party of pleasure, leaned languidly upon a window-sill, and gazed vaguely at the prospect without.
“There,” said she—“yonder, upon the hill, is a white cottage that must come down: it hides the view.”
“The white cottage!” cried the doctor. For upwards of an hour Dr Barnaby had been mute and motionless upon his chair. Mirth and weariness, sun and rain, had succeeded each other without eliciting a syllable from his lips. His presence was forgotten by everybody: every eye turned quickly upon him when he uttered these three words—“The white cottage!”
“What interest do you take in it, doctor?” asked the countess.
“Mon Dieu, madame! Pray forget that I spoke. The cottage will come down, undoubtedly, since such is your good pleasure.”