Young Coventry was a cool, indolent man, seldom conscious of any emotion, any passion, pleasurable or otherwise; but at the look, the tone of the governess, he experienced a new sensation, indefinable, yet strong. He colored and, for the first time in his life, looked abashed. Lucia saw it, and hated Miss Muir with a sudden hatred; for, in all the years she had passed with her cousin, no look or word of hers had possessed such power. Coventry was himself again in an instant, with no trace of that passing change, but a look of interest in his usually dreamy eyes, and a touch of anger in his sarcastic voice.
“What a melodramatic young lady! I shall go tomorrow.”
Lucia laughed, and was well pleased when he sauntered away to bring her a cup of tea from the table where a little scene was just taking place. Mrs. Coventry had sunk into her chair again, exhausted by the flurry of the fainting fit. Bella was busied about her; and Edward, eager to feed the pale governess, was awkwardly trying to make the tea, after a beseeching glance at his cousin which she did not choose to answer. As he upset the caddy and uttered a despairing exclamation, Miss Muir quietly took her place behind the urn, saying with a smile, and a shy glance at the young man, “Allow me to assume my duty at once, and serve you all. I understand the art of making people comfortable in this way. The scoop, please. I can gather this up quite well alone, if you will tell me how your mother likes her tea.”
Edward pulled a chair to the table and made merry over his mishaps, while Miss Muir performed her little task with a skill and grace that made it pleasant to watch her. Coventry lingered a moment after she had given him a steaming cup, to observe her more nearly, while he asked a question or two of his brother. She took no more notice of him than if he had been a statue, and in the middle of the one remark he addressed to her, she rose to take the sugar basin to Mrs. Coventry, who was quite won by the modest, domestic graces of the new governess.
“Really, my dear, you are a treasure; I haven’t tasted such tea since my poor maid Ellis died. Bella never makes it good, and Miss Lucia always forgets the cream. Whatever you do you seem to do well, and that is such a comfort.”
“Let me always do this for you, then. It will be a pleasure, madam.” And Miss Muir came back to her seat with a faint color in her cheek which improved her much.
“My brother asked if young Sydney was at home when you left,” said Edward, for Gerald would not take the trouble to repeat the question.
Miss Muir fixed her eyes on Coventry, and answered with a slight tremor of the lips, “No, he left home some weeks ago.”
The young man went back to his cousin, saying, as he threw himself down beside her, “I shall not go tomorrow, but wait till the three days are out.”
“Why?” demanded Lucia.
Lowering his voice he said, with a significant nod toward the governess, “Because I have a fancy that she is at the bottom of Sydney’s mystery. He’s not been himself lately, and now he is gone without a word. I rather like romances in real life, if they are not too long, or difficult to read.”
“Do you think her pretty?”
“Far from it, a most uncanny little specimen.”
“Then why fancy Sydney loves her?”
“He is an oddity, and likes sensations and things of that sort.”
“What do you mean, Gerald?”
“Get the Muir to look at you, as she did at me, and you will understand. Will you have another cup, Juno?”
“Yes, please.” She liked to have him wait upon her, for he did it to no other woman except his mother.
Before he could slowly rise, Miss Muir glided to them with another cup on the salver; and, as Lucia took it with a cold nod, the girl said under her breath, “I think it honest to tell you that I possess a quick ear, and cannot help hearing what is said anywhere in the room. What you say of me is of no consequence, but you may speak of things which you prefer I should not hear; therefore, allow me to warn you.” And she was gone again as noiselessly as she came.
“How do you like that?” whispered Coventry, as his cousin sat looking after the girl, with a disturbed expression.
“What an uncomfortable creature to have in the house! I am very sorry I urged her coming, for your mother has taken a fancy to her, and it will be hard to get rid of her,” said Lucia, half angry, half amused.
“Hush, she hears every word you say. I know it by the expression of her face, for Ned is talking about horses, and she looks as haughty as ever you did, and that is saying much. Faith, this is getting interesting.”
“Hark, she is speaking; I want to hear,” and Lucia laid her hand on her cousin’s lips. He kissed it, and then idly amused himself with turning the rings to and fro on the slender fingers.
“I have been in France several years, madam, but my friend died and I came back to be with Lady Sydney, till—” Muir paused an instant, then added, slowly, “till I fell ill. It was a contagious fever, so I went of my own accord to the hospital, not wishing to endanger her.”
“Very right, but are you sure there is no danger of infection now?” asked Mrs. Coventry anxiously.
“None, I assure you. I have been well for some
