thesubstitution of the vaguer participle for the more definite "seen," didnot catch Miss Lermont's attention. Yet her perplexity increased.
"She _did_ change colour when she heard his name and she _was_ uneasywhen she heard of the Bertrams being here," thought Maida. "Yet I knowshe is not only truthful, but candid. The very way she told me therewas something she _could_ not tell, shows it. Can it be merely that hersister has got it into her head that Mr Gresham would be a good_parti_, which I suppose he would be, for her sister, and that somehints of hers have annoyed Philippa? She _is_ almost morbidlysensitive, I know. I suppose it must be that."
But feeling the girl's eyes fixed upon her, she hastened to reply to herlast words.
"You are pretty sure to meet him _here_" she said. "There is scarcely aday on which we do not see or hear something of the Bertrams. So weshall have an opportunity of finding out if our silent friend can talkwhen he chooses to do so."
"But you have had an opportunity of that already, have you not?" saidPhilippa. "Did you not say you had seen Mr Gresham since his arrival?"
"Yes, the day before yesterday, but only for a few minutes. He didtalk, I must allow. He found time, as I said, to ask if I had heardfrom you lately. He _may_ have said something of Evelyn and her husbandhaving been with him, but if so, I did not pay attention. He iscertainly a very handsome man, and the Bertrams think everything of him.I suppose he is made a great deal of, and if he is a little affectedand spoilt, it is excusable."
"Did he strike you as affected?" said Philippa. Now that she had gotover the first start of hearing Mr Gresham's name, she had pulledherself together and regained her composure. After all, it was not_Michael_; and when she recalled that quite recently she had beencontemplating the possibility of accompanying the Headforts before verylong on another visit to Merle, she realised the inconsistency ofshrinking from meeting her sister's late host in the present easy andinformal circumstances. "I don't think I can take Evelyn's account ofhim quite without a grain of salt. She seems so fascinated by him."
"And your brother-in-law?" said Maida. "I always like to hear a man'sopinion of a man, as well as a woman's."
"Oh, yes, Duke likes him very much, I think," said Philippa. "He wouldnot appreciate his charm of manner as Evelyn does, very possibly. Dukeis a regular man, something of a boy about him, don't you know, a littletoo rough and ready, perhaps. Then Evelyn knows Mr Gresham better.She saw a good deal of him at--at Wyverston," and Philippa suddenlystooped to pick an innocent daisy looking up in her face from the grassat her feet, only to fling it down again impatiently, poor daisy!
Why had she mentioned Wyverston, she asked herself; why trench quiteunnecessarily on ground where she could not be open and communicativewith her friend, as she loved to be?
"I am a perfect idiot," she thought, and again the expression on herface struck Miss Lermont as unusual.
"At Wyverston," she repeated. "_The_ Headforts' place. Oh, yes, Iremember your telling me in your very first letter from home aboutEvelyn's going there. But you never said anything more--as to how thevisit went off and if she enjoyed it. You were not very well about thattime, if I remember rightly. I think your mother wrote and said so?"
"I don't think there was much the matter with me," said Philippa, "butmamma was a little anxious. They will think me looking brilliantly wellwhen I go home after this splendid holiday, I am sure. You were askingabout Evey's visit? Yes, she enjoyed it very much, and it was a greatsuccess. She took to the Headforts and they to her wonderfully."
"Then," began Miss Lermont, "but don't answer if it is indiscreet of meto ask, do you think the old man is going to recognise yourbrother-in-law as his heir and--to treat him accordingly?"
"We don't quite know," said Philippa, "and after all, as Duke says,there is no hurry _to_ know. The squire is not a very old man, and hemust be wiry to have lived through the shocks he has had. He knowsnothing almost of Duke except by hearsay, though there is nothing butgood to hear of him. All he has said has been to express a wish thatDuke should give up India and settle down at home, and he worded it asif he meant to help him to do so. Of course we shall know more afterthey have met."
"Will that be soon?" asked Miss Lermont.
"Yes, I believe Evey and he are going north very shortly after we getback," said Philippa. "And they are taking the boy, Bonny, with them.The Wyverston people have specially invited him."
"I think that all looks very promising," said Maida. "You would be veryglad for your sister not to have to go abroad again, would you not?"
"_Very_," said Philippa, heartily. "It would be the greatest comfort inthe world; even if they had to go to live in the north, it would seemdelightful after India."
"Is Wyverston a pretty place?" said Maida, but she checked herselfalmost as she said the words. "Of course you have never been there, sohow could you know."
"Evelyn thought it a fine place, a good comfortable old house, thoughwith nothing very striking about it, except, perhaps, the contrast withthe great lonely moorland, on one side at least, round about it. Thereis something very impressive about moorland--so grim and yet pathetic,"said Philippa, half dreamily. Her eyes seemed to be gazing on the sceneshe suggested; and it was so. At that moment, instead of the sunnyterrace, with the orange trees in their green tubs, and down below, theblue Mediterranean gleaming sapphire-like in the sun, with overhead thedeep, all but cloudless sky, she was picturing to herself the cold greymorning aspect of the far-stretching lands on the east of Wyverston.She felt the very wind on her cheek, the breeze "with a flavour of thesea," as the Headforts were fond of saying; she saw the tops of thetrees in the pine woods to the left, and then emerging from their shadeshe seemed again to catch sight of the long smooth body of poor Solomon,ready to wriggle with pleasure at her approach. And Solomon's master inhis rough tweed suit and honest, kindly face--yes, it _was_ an honestykindly face--not far behind! What a pity--what a pity that he had cometo think so poorly of her; there was something about the man that madeher feel he would have been a good and steady friend. She could havelearnt to like him. If ever--but here she was startled back into thepresent by Maida Lermont's rallying tones.
"_Philippa_," it said, "for the third time of asking! The thought ofthe moors up there in that bleak north seems to have bewitched you. HasEvelyn such graphic powers of description, for you have never been thereyourself? What are you dreaming about? I spoke to you three timeswithout your hearing me."
Philippa turned to her cousin.
"I _was_ dreaming about the moors; the moors and the pine woods," shesaid simply. "It is not necessary to have seen places to think aboutthem, is it I often feel as if I knew all about scenes and countries Ihave even _heard_ but little of; do you not feel so, sometimes? When Iwas little I used to fancy I must have seen places in my dreams--in realdreams, I mean, not daydreams."
"Yes," Maida agreed. "I think I have had the same fancy. And what isalmost as curious is the way in which the slightest association bringsback scenes that we had practically forgotten. A word, or a touch in apicture, or very often with me a scent or smell, is like magic. I findmyself recalling certain events, or remembering minutely certain scenesand perhaps people that I had not thought of for years and years. Itdoes seem as if what we are so often told must be true--that we do not_really_ forget anything. But I think, dear, we must be going in; thesun gets very hot on this terrace. We shall drive a little later, andthere is some plan about meeting the Bertrams--going there to afternoontea, I think. So we shall probably see Evelyn's hero."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
SUNSHINY DAYS.
The Bertrams were the most hospitable people in the world. Wherever youcame across them, in London, or at their own rambling country-house, ina villa at Cannes, or on board a dahabeeyah on the Nile, it was all one.They were always delighted to see you, and uneasy till you promised tostay with them indefinitely, or, at least, to come to luncheon or dinneras long as you were within hail.
&nb
sp; And all this in spite of a constant amount of things to see to, none ofwhich were neglected by her, and very far from robust health on littleLady Mary's part! Her Irish ancestry explained a good deal, said some,"Irish people are _so_ hospitable, you know," As if the virtue inquestion was an inherited quality for which no credit was due to thepossessor. "Her kind heart," for sorely no kinder heart ever beat, hadsomething to say to it, said those who knew and loved her as shedeserved, among whom Maida Lermont was certainly to be reckoned.
Yet, notwithstanding the prepossessions in their favour which Philippacould not but feel,