"You look lovely, Miss Vaughan," she said; and Hyacinth, looking at her fair flower-like face, blushed for her own great beauty.

Then Pincott left her, and the way in which she amused herself was by sitting at the open window, dreaming of the face she had seen at the waterfall. She was roused by the maid's return. "Lady Vaughan will be glad to see you in her room, Miss Vaughan. Mr. Darcy is there."

Again the name fell like cold water over her, chilling her bright dreams, her growing content and happiness: and again she consoled herself by remembering that no one could force her to marry Mr. Darcy against her will. She heard the sound of voices as she drew near the room; she opened the door and entered, her beautiful face calm and serene, looking as fair a picture of youth and loveliness as ever greeted human eyes. "Hyacinth," said Lady Vaughan, "come here my dear. I want to introduce you to Mr. Darcy."

She went up to her. A tall figure stood near Lady Vaughan's chair. Lady Vaughan took her hand.

"This is my granddaughter. Hyacinth--Mr. Darcy."

Hyacinth raised her eyes. Was she blinded by a great golden sunbeam? Was she dreaming? Was she haunted or bewitched? Adrian Darcy, whom she had dreaded to see, whose name even she had detested, was the same gentleman that she had seen by the waterfall.

When she remembered all she had been thinking and dreaming, it was no wonder that the beautiful face grew crimson as a damask rose, and that the bright eyes fell until he could see nothing of them. She was spell-bound--this unknown hero of whom she had dreamed the whole summer morning was Adrian Darcy! He held out his hand to her.

"We are old friends," he said frankly. "I saw this young lady about to drink some clear, cold, sparkling poison this morning, and I interfered to prevent her doing so."

Then he was obliged to explain to Lady Vaughan who smiled most graciously; but Hyacinth said never a word. She could not realize the truth, yet she sat like one blinded by a great flood of sunlight. If she had known how this sweet shy confusion became her--how beautiful it was--how Adrian Darcy admired it! Nothing could have charmed him half so much.

"How beautiful she is!" he thought. "She is like a rosebud shrouded in green leaves."

Hyacinth was almost in despair.

"How stupid he will think me!" she reflected. "But I cannot help it--I cannot speak."

When she had collected her senses sufficiently to listen, Adrian was saying--

"Yes; we have very good music here, indeed. I think the hotel gardens on a bright summer day the most charming place I know. The fountains are very beautiful; and the band is one of the best I have heard. Lady Vaughan, I hear the music beginning now; will you allow me to escort you? There are very comfortable seats in the gardens!"

He saw the sudden, startled flush of joy in the young face. Hyacinth raised her head and looked eagerly at her grandmamma; but Lady Vaughan excused herself.

"The journey has been delightful," she said, "but fatiguing. To-morrow I will go out, but not to-day. Hyacinth will go, though, Adrian, if you will be so kind as to give the child the pleasure."

The "child" rose, her cheeks aflame, her heart beating as it had never beat before. To go out into those sunlit gardens and to listen to music with him--well, she had not even guessed before what a beautiful, happy world it was. She put on the prettiest of her hats--one with a white plume--and a lace mantilla, and then stood, half smiling, but wholly happy, waiting for him. He came up to her smiling.

"Hyacinth," he said, "we are--to use an old-fashioned term--of the same kin; so I am not going to call you Miss Vaughan. And I want you not to look so shy, but to feel quite at home with me."

At home with him, this hero, this king amongst men, whose presence filled her whole soul with light! It could never be.

"I had no idea," he continued, "that I had such a fair young kinswoman.

Lady Vaughan had always written as though you were a child."

Her heart sank. Was this how he thought of her--was this what made him so kind and gracious to her?

"I am not a child," she said, with some little attempt at dignity, "I am more than eighteen."

"Quite a philosophic age," was the smiling reply. "Now, Hyacinth, tell me, what do you like to look at best--flowers, trees, or water?"

"I like all three," she said truthfully.

"Do you? Then I will find you a seat where you can see all. Here is one not too near the music."

He had found a quaint, pretty garden seat, under the shade of a tall spreading tree. In front of them were beds of lilies and roses, and the blue waters of the lake. The band began to play the sad, pa.s.sionate music of Verdi's "Miserere;" and to Hyacinth Vaughan it seemed as though the earth had changed into heaven.

"Do you like music?" he said watching the changes on the beautiful young face.

"Yes," she replied, "but I have heard so little."

"You have had a very quiet life at Queen's Chase, I should imagine," he said.

"Yes, as quiet as life could well be."

"You should not regret it. I am quite of the old _regime_. I think young girls should be so reared."

"For what reason?" she asked.

"For a hundred reasons. If there is one character I detest more than another, it is that of a worldly woman. Delicacy, purity, refinement, are all so essential--and no girl can possess them brought up under the glare and glitter of the world. You have been singularly fortunate in living at Queen's Chase."

"Thank Heaven," she thought to herself, "that he does not know the shameful escape I tried to make--that he does not know how I loathed and hated the place."

"But," she said aloud, "it is not pleasant to be always dull."

"Dull! No. Youth is the very time for enjoyment; every thing rejoices in youth. You, for instance, have been happy with your books and flowers at Queen's Chase: the world now is all new to you. You are not what fashionable jargon calls 'used up.' You have not been playing at being a woman while you were yet a child; your heart has not been hardened by flirtations; your soul has not been soiled by contact with worldlings; you are fresh, and pure, and beautiful as the flowers themselves. If you had been living all these years in the hot-bed of society, this would not have been the case. There is nothing so detestable, so unnatural, as a worldly young girl."

He liked her as she was! For the first time in her life Hyacinth blessed Lady Vaughan and Queen's Chase.

"I do not want to tire you with argument," he continued, "but tell me Hyacinth, what becomes of a flower, the growth of which has been forced?"

"It soon dies," she replied.

"Yes; and girls brought up in the artificial atmosphere of modern society, and its worship of Mammon, its false estimates, its love of sensation and excitement, soon die to all that is fairest and best in life. You," he continued, "enjoy--see, your face tells tales, Hyacinth--you enjoy the sunshine, the flowers, the music, the lake."

"Yes, indeed I do," she confessed.

"If you had danced and flirted through one or two London seasons, you would not enjoy nature as you do; it would pall upon you--you would be apt to look at it through an eye-gla.s.s, and criticise the color of the water and the tints of the flowers--you would detect motes in the sunbeam and false notes in music."

She laughed. "I should not be so keen a critic, Mr. Darcy."

"One who can criticise is not always one who enjoys most," he said. "I like to see people honestly enjoying themselves, and leaving criticism alone."

The gardens were not crowded; there were seldom visitors enough at the hotel to form a crowd; but Hyacinth was struck by the pleasant, high-bred faces and elegant dresses.

"Do you see that lady there in the gray dress," said Mr. Darcy--"the one with two children by her side?" Hyacinth looked in the direction indicated.

"That is the Princess Von Arten, the daughter of a queen. How simple and una.s.suming she is! She is staying here with her children. The gentleman now saluting her is the eminent Weilmath."

Her face lighted up.

"I am glad to have seen him," she said; "I have read of him so often. Do you admire him?"