Part 5 (2/2)

She held out her ungloved hands.

”Do they compare with the white hands of the ladies you know?” she said.

”They are about the finest hands I have ever seen,” he replied. ”You can't see yourself, sister of mine.”

”I do not care very much to see myself,” she said. ”If I had not a maid I expect I should look very s.h.i.+ftless, for I don't care to look in a mirror. My only mirror used to be a stream of water in summer,” she added, ”and a corner of a looking-gla.s.s got from the Hudson's Bay fort in the winter.”

”Well, you are missing a lot of enjoyment,” he said, ”if you do not use your mirror much. The rest of us can appreciate what you would see there.”

She reached out and touched his arm.

”Do you like to look at me?” she questioned, with a strange simple candour.

For the first time in many a year, Richard Armour blushed like a girl fresh from school. The question had come so suddenly, it had gone so quickly into a sensitive corner of his nature, that he lost command of himself for the instant, yet had little idea why the command was lost.

He touched the fingers on his arm affectionately.

”Like to look at you--like to look at you? Why, of course we all like to look at you. You are very fine and handsome and interesting.”

”Richard,” she said, drawing her hands away, ”is that why you like to look at me?”

He had recovered himself. He laughed in his old hearty way, and said:

”Yes, yes; why, of course! Come, let us go and see the boy,” he added, taking her arm and hurrying her down the steps. ”Come and let us see Richard Joseph, the pride of all the Armours.”

She moved beside him in a kind of dream. She had learned much since she came to Greyhope, and yet she could not at that moment have told exactly why she asked Richard the question that had confused him, nor did she know quite what lay behind the question. But every problem which has life works itself out to its appointed end, if fumbling human fingers do not meddle with it. Half the miseries of this world are caused by forcing issues, in every problem of the affections, the emotions, and the soul. There is a law working with which there should be no tampering, lest in foolish interruption come only confusion and disaster. Against every such question there should be written the one word, ”Wait.”

Richard Armour stooped over the child. ”A beauty,” he said, ”a perfect little gentleman. Like Richard Joseph Armour there is none,” he added.

”Whom do you think he looks like, Richard?” she asked. This was a question she had never asked before since the child was born. Whom the child looked like every one knew; but within the past year and a half Francis Armour's name had seldom been mentioned, and never in connection with the child. The child's mother asked the question with a strange quietness. Richard answered it without hesitation.

”The child looks like Frank,” he said. ”As like him as can be.”

”I am glad,” she said, ”for all your sakes.”

”You are very deep this morning, Lali,” Richard said, with a kind of helplessness. ”Frank will be pretty proud of the youngster when he comes back. But he won't be prouder of him than I am.”

”I know that,” she said. ”Won't you be lonely without the boy--and me, Richard?”

Again the question went home. ”Lonely? I should think I would,” he said.

”I should think I would. But then, you see, school is over, and the master stays behind and makes up the marks. You will find London a jollier master than I am, Lali. There'll be lots of shows, and plenty to do, and smart frocks, and no end of feeds and frolics; and that is more amusing than studying three hours a day with a dry old stick like me. I tell you what, when Frank comes--”

She interrupted him. ”Do not speak of that,” she said. Then, with a sudden burst of feeling, though her words were scarcely audible: ”I owe you everything, Richard--everything that is good. I owe him nothing, Richard--nothing but what is bitter.”

”Hush, hush,” he said; ”you must not speak that way. Lali, I want to say to you--”

At that moment General Armour, Mrs. Armour, and Marion appeared on the door-step, and the carriage came wheeling up the drive. What Richard intended to say was left unsaid. The chances were it never would be said.

”Well, well,” said General Armour, calling down at them, ”escort his imperial highness to the chariot which awaits him, and then ho! for London town. Come along, my daughter,” he said to Lali; ”come up here and take the last whiff of Greyhope that you will have for six months.

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