So they turned and walked a little off the beaten track, and under the trees. When they had walked a certain distance in one direction Victor turned round and she turned with him, as if she were merely obeying his signal of command. It has already been said more than once that Mr. Heron always went on as if he were ever so much older than she, and belonging indeed to a different stage of life. He bore himself as a man of forty or thereabout might do with a young woman of Minola's age.
"How do you like Blanchet's book?" he asked abruptly.
"It is very beautiful, I suppose. It's a little too ornamental and fantastic perhaps for my taste; but I suppose that is in keeping with the style of the poems; and he is delighted with the book."
"It has cost a great deal of money—much more than it ought to have cost. I don't like the thing at all."
"But think of the joy given to the poet. It is surely not very dearly bought at the price. I never knew of a man so happy."
"Yes, yes; that is all very well for him——"
"It is very well for me too, Mr. Heron—to be able to do a kindness for any human creature. I dare say it has given me as much pleasure as it has given him, and made me quite as proud too—and is not that something to gain?"
"Still I can't help feeling uneasy about this thing. It has cost a heap of money—much more than I ever supposed it would—and I seem as if I had brought you into all the expense."
"How could that be, Mr. Heron? I expressly wished Mr. Blanchet to do as he pleased; and he understood me exactly as I wished him to do. You had nothing to do with it."
"Oh, yes! I had something to do with it; and then—excuse me—you are rather young perhaps——"