Part 6 (2/2)
Here she shows such unmistakable symptoms of relapsing into the tearful mood again, that nurse sees the necessity of changing the subject.
”Come, my bairn, let me dress you for dinner,” she says, briskly, and presently, after a little more coaxing, she succeeds so well that she sends her little mistress down to the drawing-room, looking her loveliest and her best.
CHAPTER V.
”Thoughtless of beauty, she was beauty's self, Recluse amid the close-embowering woods.”
--THOMSON.
Next morning, having enjoyed the long and dreamless sleep that belongs to the heart-whole, Lilian runs down to the breakfast-room, with the warm sweet flush of health and youth upon her cheeks. Finding Lady Chetwoode and Cyril already before her, she summons all her grace to her aid and tries to look ashamed of herself.
”Am I late?” she asks, going up to Lady Chetwoode and giving her a little caress as a good-morning. Her very touch is so gentle and childish and loving that it sinks straight into the deepest recesses of one's heart.
”No. Don't be alarmed. I have only just come down myself. You will soon find us out to be some of the laziest people alive.”
”I am glad of it: I like lazy people,” says Lilian; ”all the rest seem to turn their lives into one great worry.”
”Will you not give me a good-morning, Miss Chesney?” says Cyril, who is standing behind her.
”Good-morning,” putting her hand into his.
”But that is not the way you gave it to my mother,” in an aggrieved tone.
”No?--Oh!”--as she comprehends,--”but you should remember how much more deserving your mother is.”
”With sorrow I acknowledge the truth of your remark,” says Cyril, as he hands her her tea.
”Cyril is our naughty boy,” Lady Chetwoode says; ”we all spend our lives making allowances for Cyril. You must not mind what he says. I hope you slept well, Lilian; there is nothing does one so much good as a sound sleep, and you looked quite pale with fatigue last night. You see”--smiling--”how well I know your name. It is very familiar to me, having been your dear mother's.”
”It seems strangely familiar to me also, though I never know your mother,” says Cyril. ”I don't believe I shall ever be able to call you Miss Chesney. Would it make you very angry if I called you Lilian?”
”Indeed, no; I shall be very much obliged to you. I should hardly know myself by the more formal t.i.tle. You shall call me Lilian, and I shall call you Cyril,--if you don't mind.”
”I don't think I do,--much,” says Cyril; so the compact is signed.
”Guy will be here surely by luncheon,” says Lady Chetwoode, with a view of giving her guest pleasure.
”Oh! will he really?” says Lilian, in a quick tone, suggestive of dismay.
”I am sure of it,” says Guy's mother fondly: ”he never breaks his word.”
”Of course not,” thinks Lilian to herself. ”Fancy a paragon going wrong!
How I hate a man who never breaks his word! Why, the Medes and Persians would be weak-minded compared with him.”
”I suppose not,” she says aloud, rather vaguely.
<script>