“My dear,” said Aunt Rosamond, “some day you may be very sorry for the way in which you habitually speak of a very dear friend of mine and one worthy of all esteem.”
Aunt Rosamond spoke so gently (for her, that is) that Lettice was moved to instant penitence.
“Auntie, please forgive me,” she said, going up to the old lady and kissing her. “I don’t know why I am so ill-tempered this morning. I think I’m getting a little tired of all this gaiety, there seems so much to get through today before bedtime. First the shooting, then the dinner, then the ball, and it seemed as if a crowd would add to the tiresomeness of it all.”
It flashed through Aunt Rosamond’s mind that it was just possible that the unexplained absence of Captain Ivie and his sister from the gaieties of the neighbourhood might have something to do with Lettice’s weariness and irritability. However, she very wisely abstained from any questions.
“My dear,” she said kindly, “you are a little overdone. Directly after the prizes are given away you had better go into the library at Lochiel (it will be the quietest room in the house such a day as this) and have a long rest, then you will be bright and fresh by dinnertime.”
And the good old lady’s mind wandered away to another possibility—viz., what if, from a hint she might let fall, Lord Lochiel were to choose the same quiet room for a little rest, and what if—But here her thoughts were broken off by the announcement that the carriage was waiting that was to take them to the castle.
“A rosebud garden of girls,” was Lord Lochiel’s comment, as, having welcomed Lettice and her aunts, he led them through the winding paths of the shrubberies to where, in a pleasantly-shaded corner of the grounds, the targets had been placed. Some twenty or thirty young ladies, dressed becomingly in the archer’s green and silver, were sauntering hither and thither on the smoothly-shaven lawn; others, in gauzy pink or maize, wandered in and out trying the points of the arrows, sometimes even essaying a shot, and a low murmur and ripple of talk and laughter mingled with the pleasant twitter of the birds in the big firs above, and the humming of the heather-fed bees.
“It is quite too delightful,” exclaimed Lettice, rousing herself with an effort, and making up her mind, once for all that she would thoroughly enjoy her day. Lettice’s idea of a day’s enjoyment, however, was certainly not to spend it in the company of a middle-aged nobleman and two elderly maiden aunts, so she quickly made her way to the centre of the girl-throng and fluttered in and out like the rest.
Perhaps she had never looked so lovely before. The birds, and the sunshine, and the flowers had swept away the clouds of discontent and annoyance which had certainly begun to gather on her low, smooth brow. Her bright brown hair had already begun to curl and ripple below the rim of her dark green hat (“What will it be by the end of the afternoon?” sighed Aunt Rosamond), and her eyes were beaming and sparkling with that hidden light of merriment and mischief which those of Lettice’s friends who knew her best were wont to call “danger signals.”
“Scotland seems to suit Miss Tremarten,” said Lord Lochiel to Aunt Rosamond, as he noted the pretty rose tint on Lettice’s cheeks, the bright coral lips, and the light, joyous, musical laugh which came across to them where they stood, a little apart from the more youthful guests.
Aunt Rosamond assented, and fell to wondering in her own mind how Lettice’s quiet rest in the library could be best arranged, and however would it be possible for Lord Lochiel to detach himself, even for half-an-hour, from this crowd of guests and tenants.
For a crowd it certainly was. The earl’s invitations had been given on a most extensive scale. He was a popular man—that is to say, a locally popular man among all classes of the community, being known far and near as a good landlord, with an aptitude for farming land and breeding cattle. How he came to be fascinated by so light and fun-loving a creature as Lettice Tremarten it would be difficult to explain, but that he was so attracted was evident to the most careless observer or most zealous toxophilite of that gay garden throng.
“Now that you have done your part, Miss Tremarten, may I ask you to give me a few minutes? I want to show you a splendid beast—a Cromarty bull I mean; I shall put him in for the next agricultural.”
So Lord Lochiel at Lettice’s elbow, as, amid a storm of applause, she succeeded in making two or three good hits.
“Oh no,” said Lettice lightly, “I am going to stay here the whole day through, without ever once moving, till all the shooting is over. I want to see everything and speak to everyone,” and she plunged into light talk with a somewhat insipid young attaché on her other side.
Aunt Rosamond frowned—Lettice could feel the frown at ten yards distance. But what were frowns to her today? She had made up her mind to thoroughly enjoy everything, let those frown who would, let those stay away who would!
Yet those who stood nearest to Miss Lettice, with her flashing face and sparkling eyes, on that bright, sunshiny morning, might have noted that ever and anon, as a slight stir among the visitors and a forward movement on the part of Lord Lochiel denoted the arrival of another guest, a look of inquiry (anxiety almost) would pass over her face, to be followed by one a shade darker as the newcomer took his or her place among the spectators.
For neither Captain nor Miss McCormack had made their appearance.
“Now I’m thoroughly tired out, auntie,” whispered Lettice to Miss Tremarten as a clock in the distance chimed four. “I’m going to steal away, not to the
