Audrey suggested rather gravely that they should walk along the terrace: her mother was on the lawn with Mrs. Charrington. She thought Mrs. Blake looked exceedingly nice in her thin black dress and little close bonnet; nothing could be simpler, and perhaps nothing would have suited her half so well. Audrey felt sure that everyone would admire her; and she was right. Mrs. Charrington fell in love with her at first sight, and to Audrey's great amus.e.m.e.nt her father paid her the most marked attention.

'My dear, do tell me who that lady in black is,' inquired Gertrude Fortescue, catching hold of Audrey's arm; 'she is perfectly lovely. What magnificent hair she has, and what a sweet smile! Papa is talking to her now, and Mrs. Charrington is on her other side.'

'Oh, that is Mrs. Blake--you know her son, Gertrude.'

'Mr. Blake's mother! why, she looks quite young enough to be his sister.

I wish you would introduce me, Audrey; I have quite lost my heart to her.'

'I have brought you another admirer, Mrs. Blake,' observed Audrey mischievously, while Gertrude Fortescue turned red and looked foolish.

Mrs. Blake received the young lady with one of her charming smiles.

'Everyone is so kind,' she murmured; 'I am having such a happy afternoon, Miss Ross. I won't tell you what I think of Dr. Ross--I positively dare not; and Mrs. Charrington, too, has been as nice as possible.'

'And now Gertrude means to be nice, too,' returned Audrey brightly.

'Good-bye for the present; I have to play with Mr. Blake, and he is waiting for me;' and she hurried away.

What a successful afternoon it was! Mrs. Blake was certainly making her mark among the Rutherford people; no one in their senses could have found fault with her manners. She was perfectly good-humoured and at her ease; she had a pleasant word and smile for everybody.

'One would have imagined that all these strangers would have made her nervous,' thought Audrey; but it needed a close observer to detect any mark of uneasiness in Mrs. Blake's voice or manner. Now and then there might be a slight flush, an involuntary movement of the well-gloved hands, a quick start or turn of the head, if anyone suddenly addressed her; but no one would have noticed these little symptoms.

'Your mother seems to be enjoying herself,' observed Audrey, as she joined Cyril and they walked across the lawn together.

'Yes,' he returned, with a pleased look; 'she is quite happy.'

'Let us sit where we can see my son and Miss Ross play!' exclaimed Mrs.

Blake, rising as she spoke. 'Look! there are chairs on that side of the lawn. What a well-matched couple they are!--both play so well. Miss Ross is not as handsome as her sister--Mrs. Harcourt is an exceedingly fine young woman, and one seldom sees such a complexion in the present day--but, in my humble opinion, Miss Ross is far more charming.'

'Do you think so? We are all very fond of Geraldine, and--oh yes, Audrey is very nice too,' returned Miss Fortescue a little absently. She was considered handsome herself, and it struck her with some degree of wonderment that the afternoon was half over and Mr. Blake had not asked her to play tennis.

CHAPTER XIV

'I AM SORRY YOU ASKED THE QUESTION'

'Thou must not be hurt at a well-meaning friend, though he shake thee somewhat roughly by the shoulder to awake thee.'

_Quentin Durward._

Half an hour later Audrey had finished her game, and had resisted all her partner's pleadings to give their opponents their revenge. She might feel tempted--Mr. Blake played so splendidly--but she knew her duty to her guests better than that.

'You must get another partner,' she said, with something of her sister's decision. 'Here is Miss Fortescue; she has been sitting out a long time, and she is a very good player. Gertrude'--raising her voice--'Mr. Blake wants a partner. I am sure you will take pity on him.' And in this manner Gertrude obtained her wish.

Perhaps she would rather have had her desire gratified in a different manner--if Mr. Blake had asked her himself, for example. She was not quite pleased at the tone in which he professed himself delighted to play with Miss Fortescue; he fetched her racket a little reluctantly, when Audrey pointed it out, and there was certainly no enthusiasm visible in his manner as he suggested that Miss Cardell and her partner were waiting for them.

'Do you know where my mother and Miss Ross have gone?' he asked, as they took their place.

'Mrs. Blake asked Miss Ross to show her the pond. They are waiting for you to serve, Mr. Blake;' and then Cyril did consent to throw himself into the game. Miss Fortescue was a good-looking girl, and played well, but she was not Miss Ross; nevertheless, Cyril had no intention of accepting a beating, and he was soon playing as brilliantly as ever.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Blake was talking after her usual rapid fashion.

'What beautiful grounds! and so tastefully laid out, too. I have never seen such a garden. I do love this succession of terraces, and those trees with white leaves just striped with pink--what do you call them, Miss Ross?'

Audrey told her they were white maple.

'Dear me! Did Dr. Ross plant them? They do look so well against that dark background of trees. Everything is in such perfect taste and order, and Cyril says it is the same in the house. The Bryces' establishment was not half so well regulated. He declares Dr. Ross has a master-mind, and, now I have talked to him, I am quite sure Cyril is right.'

'You must not expect me to contradict you. I think there is no one like my father.'

'I daresay not. He is charming--positively charming! So this is the pond Kester and Mollie rave about? What a sweet little place--so still and so retired! But of course you can see the house from it. Is not that your cousin, Captain Burnett?'--as they came in sight of the bench. 'It is very much like him.'

'Yes, of course it is Michael!' and Audrey quickened her steps in surprise. 'My dear Michael, when did you get back? No one knows of your arrival.'

'I daresay not,' he returned somewhat gravely, as he shook hands with her and bowed to Mrs. Blake. 'I only got in half an hour ago, and, having no mind to mingle with the crowd, I sat here to get cool.'

'Have you had some tea, Michael?'

'Oh yes; Parker brought me some. Never mind me. How have you been getting on?' looking at her attentively.

'Oh, very well.' But Audrey blushed a little uneasily under that kind look. 'Mrs. Blake, I believe you have not met my cousin before?'

'I think we have met, Audrey.'

'To be sure we have!' responded Mrs. Blake, with her brightest smile. 'I am so glad of this opportunity of speaking to you, Captain Burnett. I hope Miss Ross gave you my message?'

'I don't believe I have had any message--have I, Audrey?' And Audrey laughed a little guiltily; she did not always remember people's messages.

Mrs. Blake shook her head at her.

'Oh, you traitress!' she exclaimed playfully. 'And I thought you, of all people, were to be trusted. Captain Burnett, I must give my own message.

I want to thank you for your kindness to my poor boy.'

'He is not poor at all,' he replied lightly; but his keen blue eyes seemed to take the measure, mental and physical, of the graceful-looking woman before him. 'He is a very clever fellow, and will make his mark. I can a.s.sure you I quite envy him his brains.'

'It makes me so proud to hear you say that. I often wonder why my children are so clever; their father'--she checked herself, and then went on in a more subdued key--'my poor husband had only average talents, and as for me----' She left her sentence unfinished in a most expressive way.

'Mollie says you are clever too, Mrs. Blake.'

'My dear Miss Ross, then Mollie--bless her little heart!--is wrong. Is it my fault if those foolish children choose to swear by their mother?

Cleverness does not consist in chattering a little French and Italian--does it, Captain Burnett? You and I know better than that, and it will always be a lasting wonder to me why I have a son like my Cyril.'

'You have two sons, Mrs. Blake.'

Something indefinable in Michael's tone made Mrs. Blake redden for a moment; then she recovered herself.

'Yes, thank G.o.d! I have; but a widow's eldest son is always her prop.