“Shut your eyes, Mr. Coventry,” she said, with a reproving shake of the head, and an odd little smile.
He laughed and obeyed, but could not resist an occasional covert glance from under his lashes at the slender white figure in the great velvet chair. She saw him and frowned.
“You are very disobedient; why won’t you sleep?”
“I can’t, I want to listen. I’m fond of nightingales.”
“Then I shall sing no more, but try something that has never failed yet. Give me your hand, please.”
Much amazed, he gave it, and, taking it in both her small ones, she sat down behind the curtain and remained as mute and motionless as a statue. Coventry smiled to himself at first, and wondered which would tire first. But soon a subtle warmth seemed to steal from the soft palms that enclosed his own, his heart beat quicker, his breath grew unequal, and a thousand fancies danced through his brain. He sighed, and said dreamily, as he turned his face toward her, “I like this.” And in the act of speaking, seemed to sink into a soft cloud which encompassed him about with an atmosphere of perfect repose. More than this he could not remember, for sleep, deep and dreamless, fell upon him, and when he woke, daylight was shining in between the curtains, his hand lay alone on the coverlet, and his fair-haired enchantress was gone.
IV
A Discovery
For several days Coventry was confined to his room, much against his will, though everyone did their best to lighten his irksome captivity. His mother petted him, Bella sang, Lucia read, Edward was devoted, and all the household, with one exception, were eager to serve the young master. Jean Muir never came near him, and Jean Muir alone seemed to possess the power of amusing him. He soon tired of the others, wanted something new; recalled the piquant character of the girl and took a fancy into his head that she would lighten his ennui. After some hesitation, he carelessly spoke of her to Bella, but nothing came of it, for Bella only said Jean was well, and very busy doing something lovely to surprise Mamma with. Edward complained that he never saw her, and Lucia ignored her existence altogether. The only intelligence the invalid received was from the gossip of two housemaids over their work in the next room. From them he learned that the governess had been “scolded” by Miss Beaufort for going to Mr. Coventry’s room; that she had taken it very sweetly and kept herself carefully out of the way of both young gentlemen, though it was plain to see that Mr. Ned was dying for her.
Mr. Gerald amused himself by thinking over this gossip, and quite annoyed his sister by his absence of mind.
“Gerald, do you know Ned’s commission has come?”
“Very interesting. Read on, Bella.”
“You stupid boy! You don’t know a word I say,” and she put down the book to repeat her news.
“I’m glad of it; now we must get him off as soon as possible—that is, I suppose he will want to be off as soon as possible.” And Coventry woke up from his reverie.
“You needn’t check yourself, I know all about it. I think Ned was very foolish, and that Miss Muir has behaved beautifully. It’s quite impossible, of course, but I wish it wasn’t, I do so like to watch lovers. You and Lucia are so cold you are not a bit interesting.”
“You’ll do me a favor if you’ll stop all that nonsense about Lucia and me. We are not lovers, and never shall be, I fancy. At all events, I’m tired of the thing, and wish you and Mamma would let it drop, for the present at least.”
“Oh Gerald, you know Mamma has set her heart upon it, that Papa desired it, and poor Lucia loves you so much. How can you speak of dropping what will make us all so happy?”
“It won’t make me happy, and I take the liberty of thinking that this is of some importance. I’m not bound in any way, and don’t intend to be till I am ready. Now we’ll talk about Ned.”
Much grieved and surprised, Bella obeyed, and devoted herself to Edward, who very wisely submitted to his fate and prepared to leave home for some months. For a week the house was in a state of excitement about his departure, and everyone but Jean was busied for him. She was scarcely seen; every morning she gave Bella her lessons, every afternoon drove out with Mrs. Coventry, and nearly every evening went up to the Hall to read to Sir John, who found his wish granted without exactly knowing how it had been done.
The day Edward left, he came down from bidding his mother goodbye, looking very pale, for he had lingered in his sister’s little room with Miss Muir as long as he dared.
“Goodbye, dear. Be kind to Jean,” he whispered as he kissed his sister.
“I will, I will,” returned Bella, with tearful eyes.
“Take care of Mamma, and remember Lucia,” he said again, as he touched his cousin’s beautiful cheek.
“Fear nothing. I will keep them apart,” she whispered back, and Coventry heard it.
Edward offered his hand to his brother, saying, significantly, as he looked him in the eye, “I trust you, Gerald.”
“You may, Ned.”
Then he went, and Coventry tired himself with wondering what Lucia meant. A few days later he understood.
Now Ned is gone, little Muir will appear, I fancy,
he said to himself; but “little Muir” did not appear, and seemed to shun him more carefully than she had done her lover. If he went to the drawing room in the evening hoping for music, Lucia alone was there. If he tapped at Bella’s door, there was always a pause before she opened it, and no sign of Jean appeared though her voice had been audible when
