"Come outside, then," said the girl; "the day is pleasant enough out-of-doors."
"Ah, that's better," he said; and his keen fresh face brightened up as he stepped outside into the brisk cold air, with the brilliant sunshine lying on the crisp snow.
The two of them walked up and down the long carriage-drive, between the tall rows of bleak trees; and as the old man garrulously gossiped about the past times, and his more or less confused memories, it seemed to Annie Brunel as though the whole scene around her were unreal. The narrowing avenue of trees, the heaped-up snow, the broad shafts of sunlight falling across the path, the glimpses of the white meadows, and the blue stream, and the wintry sunshine hitting on the vane of the village church, were all so very like a theatrical "set;" while the man beside her, whom she had never seen before, seemed to be some strange link connecting her with a forgotten and inscrutable past. The assurance that he would not be "turned off to follow the rest" had softened old Brooks's usually querulous and pugnacious manner; and in his most genial fashion he recalled and recounted whatever stories he could remember of Annie Brunel's old childhood, and of her mother's happy life on the margin of that Swiss lake.
He actually gossiped his companion into cheerfulness. Forgetting all about Mr. Cayley, she went with Brooks down to the lodge; and there the old man, intensely proud of the familiarity he had already established between himself and her, presented to her, with calm airs of superiority, his overawed son and daughter-in-law. And the new mistress made herself quite at home; and had two of the children on her knee at once; and was interested in Tom's pet blackbird; and expressed her admiration of Jack's string of blown eggs; and finally invited all the young ones to tea, in the housekeeper's room, that evening at six punctually. Another visitor was expected that evening. Much as Annie Brunel desired to play the part of a secret and invisible benefactor to all her friends, she found that this would cut off from her any chance of companionship; and so, before going down into Berks, she had told the story of her altered fortunes to Nelly Featherstone, and begged of that young person to come down and stay with her for a time. Nelly burst into tears of joy; was profoundly conscious of the benefit of having so desirably rich a friend; was honestly delighted and prudently speculative at the same moment, and accepted the invitation.
Nelly was a girl of spirit. She knew she would be inspected by critical servants, and perhaps by visitors of exalted rank, and she resolved not to shame her old friend. She accurately sketched beforehand the character she would assume; fixed her demeanour; decided the tone she would adopt in speaking to Lady Annie Knottingley; and, finally, bought the current number of Punch, and dressed her hair and herself in imitation of one of the ladies of that periodical.
The carriage was sent to meet her at Corchester in the evening. The calm dignity with which she treated the servants was admirable. Nor was her dress less admirable, so far as a faithful copy of the Punch lady was concerned, except in point of colour. Unfortunately she had no guide to colour, except her own rather whimsical taste; and as several parts of her attire belonged to her dramatic wardrobe, she looked like a well-dressed lady seen through a prism.
When she entered the house, confronted the servants, was introduced to Mr. Cayley, and quietly went up to kiss Annie Brunel, her manner was excellent. A woman who makes a living by studying the ridiculous, and imitating it, can lay it aside when she chooses. Nor was her assumption of womanly dignity and reserve less a matter of ease. Nelly Featherstone was clever enough to conceal herself from the eyes of a critical London audience; surely she was able to impose on a lot of country servants, and a lawyer inexperienced in theatrical affairs.
When she came into the drawing-room before dinner, her make-up was magnificent. She was a little too gorgeous, certainly; but in these days considerable latitude is allowed in colour and shape. Miss Brunel was alone.
"Why, Nelly," she said, "what was the use of your troubling to make yourself so fine? I must have put you to so much expense."
"Well, you have," said the other. "But it isn't every day I dine at a grand house."