His horse was saddled and brought to the door; he sprang upon it in fine style considering his great bulk, and with a kindly nod at me, trotted slowly down the avenue.
Seeing no signs of Theresa, I thought I could not better pass the time than by writing a description of my reception and adventures to Conny, and went into the house meaning to settle down to a long letter. As I passed through the hall, I noticed the album lying upon the table in the drawing-room. So I took hold of the book, and, like an honest lover that I was, fell to a maudlin perusal of my mistress’s countenance. But very often my eyes wandered to Theresa’s handsome face, and though my heart reproached me for the involuntary judgment, I could not help confessing that of the two cousins Conny was decidedly the inferior in every physical respect. Nothing more natural, of course, being a fair man, than that when I had two pretty girls before me, she of the dark eyes should touch me more nearly than she of the blue. You will understand, I am speaking now as a connoisseur—of the effect produced upon my mind; it was a criticism with which my heart had nothing to do.
I was leaving the drawing-room, en route for the library, where I expected to find pen and paper, when I met my cousin face to face. She blushed and stood still—I think she had imagined I had gone out with her father—then promptly held out her hand, which you may believe I took readily enough.
“What do you think of me?” she asked.
“What, but that you are a very fine actress, and acquitted yourself to perfection in as difficult a part as you could have chosen.”
“If you had only told me that you were in love with Conny, I should have been as anxious as papa to make you welcome,” she said.
“We are both in an explanatory humour,” I replied, “so let us sit down and talk the matter out.”
She seated herself—very differently, I promise you, from the awkward fashion in which she had hitherto performed that action—her manner, indeed, was abrupt, but that was owing to nervousness; for the rest, she was as subdued as Katherine after five acts of Petruchio.
“Your father tells me,” said I, “you were under the impression I had come here to make love to you on Stock Exchange principles, and marry you as a commercial undertaking. Nothing under yonder sky could be wider from the truth than that.”
“When papa informed me of your proposed visit,” she answered, keeping her eyes bent downwards—and now that she was womanly and well-behaved, I could appreciate the surprising length of her eyelashes, and the abundant folds of her rich brown hair—“he quite gave me to understand that it was his and Tom’s wish that I should marry you. I said nothing—but I inwardly vowed that no earthly power should induce me to accept a man’s hand under any other conditions than my own. I did not wish to pain papa by expressing the opinions I felt, and so resolved to make you disgusted with me, and drive you out of the house as soon as possible.”