I thought of his suggestion to go a voyage with him, and pried close into it for an inner meaning; but the memory of his manner would not suffer me to find more than had met my ear. To fall in love in an hour, thought I! Well, it must run in the blood. Father fell in love with mother at first sight; that had been her fond memory—she had boasted of it in his life and after his death—till, to my grief and to the souring of the best sweetness that her heart held, she swallowed the mumping prescription whose plate was upon my door, and whose lamp glowed like a danger signal over the plate.
CHAPTER V
SHE VISITS THE ‘CHILDE HAROLD’
I rose early next morning, sent for the cook, and gave her certain instructions. The servants in our strangely ordered home were as much mine as my stepfather’s; I paid half their wages. But my own maid was at my own cost, and she waited upon me only.
Captain Butler and my cousin arrived shortly after half-past twelve, and at one o’clock we sat down to as dainty and elegant a meal as I and the cook and my maid could contrive among us. We drank champagne; my father’s silver was upon the table; in the middle was a rich hothouse nosegay, which had cost me a guinea and a half. My maid, a discreet, good-looking girl, waited admirably. My cousin stared, and asked me, boy-like, if I dined thus every day. I laughed and answered: ‘Off as good dishes, Will, but never so well, because I often dine alone when I dine at home at all.’
‘I should like to dine with you every day,’ said Will.
I had dressed myself with extraordinary care, but my eyes wanted the sparkle of the previous evening, my cheeks the rose of those merry hours. I wondered as I glanced at Captain Butler whether the thought of me had kept him awake all night. Somehow I could not look at him with the confidence of the previous evening. I felt shy; my eyes stole to his face and dropped on detection; my appetite was poor, and my laugh unnaturally loud with nerve. His own manner was a little constrained, and I saw, and my heart throbbed and leaped when I saw, admiration strong in his looks whenever he regarded, or addressed, or listened to me. Oh, thought I, what would I give now for sauciness enough to ask you downright: ‘Have you a sweetheart?’
During the course of the dinner I said to him: ‘Don’t you think my way of living strange?’