Part 35 (1/2)

”Not that he gives me much trouble. He is a very good boy generally.”

”He is a very handsome boy, at all events. You have reason to be proud of your child. I am your cousin also.”

”Yes?”

”Yes.”

A pause, after which Mr. Chesney says, meekly:

”I suppose you would not take me as a second son?”

”I think not,” says Lilian, laughing; ”you are much too important a person and far too old to be either petted or scolded.”

”That is very hard lines, isn't it? You might say anything you liked to me, and I am almost positive I should not resent it. And if you will be kind enough to turn your eyes on me once more, I think you will acknowledge I am not so very old.”

”Too old for me to take in hand. I doubt you would be an unruly member,--a _mauvais sujet_,--a disgrace to my teaching. I should lose caste. At dinner I saw you frown, and frowns,”--with a coquettishly plaintive sigh--”frighten me!”

”Do you imagine me brutal enough to frown upon my mother?--and such a mother?”

”Nevertheless, I cannot undertake your reformation. You should remember you are scarcely in my good books. Are you not a usurper in my eyes?

Have you not stolen from me my beloved Park?”

”Ah! true. But you can have it back again, you know,” returns he, in a low tone, half jest, though there is a faint under-current--that is almost earnestness--running through it.

At this moment Lady Chetwoode saves Lilian the embarra.s.sment of a reply.

”Sing us something, darling,” she says.

And Lilian, rising, trails her soft skirts after her across the room, and, sitting down at the piano, commences ”Barbara Allen,” sweetly, gravely, tenderly, as is her wont.

Guy's gaze is following her. The pure though _piquante_ face, the golden hair, the rich old-fas.h.i.+oned texture of the gown, all combine to make a lovely picture lovelier. The words of the song make his heart throb, and bring to life a certain memory of earlier days, when on the top of a high wall he first heard her singing it.

Pathetically, softly, she sings it, without affectation or pretense of any kind, and, having finished, still lets her fingers wander idly over the notes (drawing from them delicate minor harmonies that sadden the listener), whilst the others applaud.

Guy alone being silent, she glances at him presently with a smile full of kindliness, that claims and obtains an answering smile in return.

”Have I ever seen that gown on you before?” he asks, after a pause.

”No. This dress is without doubt an eminent success, as everybody admires it. No; you never saw it before. Do you like it?”

”More than I can say. Lilian, you have formed your opinion of your cousin, and--you like him?”

”Very much, indeed. He is handsome, _debonnaire_, all that may be desired, and--he quite likes Taffy.”

”A pa.s.sport to your favor,” says Chetwoode, smiling. ”Though no one could help liking the boy.” Then his eyes seeking her hands once more, fasten upon the right one, and he sees the ring he had placed upon the third finger a few hours before now glistens bravely upon the second.

The discovery causes him a pang so keen that involuntarily he draws himself up to his full height, and condemns himself as a superst.i.tious fool. As if she divines his thought,--though in reality she knows nothing of it,--Lilian says, gazing admiringly at the glittering trinket in question: