The rest of that day pa.s.sed like a tranquil dream; a deep sweet calm had fallen over her, the hot flush dried from her face, her eyes lost their unnatural brilliancy. Little Clara, looking at her governess, said:

"How beautiful you are, Miss Holte! You look as though you had been talking to angels."

"So I have," she replied; "the angels of comfort and peace."

That night Hyacinth slept, and when she stood before her gla.s.s the next morning so much of her beauty had been restored to her that she blushed as she looked at herself. On this eventful morning Clara was not well.

"Let us go down to the sh.o.r.e," she begged; "I cannot learn any lesson or do anything until we have been there."

The young governess complied with the child's wish. It was not nine o'clock when they left the house.

"The sea is rough this morning," said Clara. "Do you hear how hollow the sound of the waves is? I like high waves--they are all foam."

They hurried down to the sh.o.r.e. The waves ran high; they broke on the sands in great sheets of foam; they seemed to be contesting with each other which should be highest and which should be swiftest.

"I am sure they are playing, Miss Holte," cried the child, clapping her hands for joy. "Let us sit down and watch them."

"I am afraid it is too cold for you to sit down; I must wrap you in my shawl and hold you in my arms, Clara."

So they sat, the child crying out with delight when one wave higher than the others broke at their feet. The fresh salt breeze brought a lovely color into Hyacinth's face, and there were peace and serenity in the depths of her beautiful eyes. Governess and pupil were suddenly startled by seeing a gentleman hastening to them across the sands. The child sprung from the gentle arms that encircled her.

"It is my brother," she cried, "my brother Aubrey!"

The gentleman caught the little figure in his arms.

"I thought it was a mermaid, Clara--upon my word I did. What are you doing here?"

"We came to watch the waves--Miss Holte and I both love the waves."

Sir Aubrey looked round, and with some difficulty repressed a cry of astonishment as his eyes fell upon Hyacinth's lovely face. He raised his hat and turned to his little sister. "You must introduce me, Clara," he said. The child smiled.

"I do not know how to introduce people," she returned, with a happy little laugh. "Miss Holte, this is my big brother, Aubrey--Aubrey, this is Miss Holte, and I love her with all my heart."

They both laughed at the quaint introduction.

"This is charming, Clara. Now, may I stay for a few minutes and watch the waves with you?"

"You must ask Miss Holte," said the child.

"Miss Holte, will you give me the required permission?" he inquired.

"You must ask Lady Dartelle, Sir Aubrey," she replied, "we are supposed to take our walks by ourselves."

The blush and the smile made her so attractive that without another word Sir Aubrey sat down by her side. He was careful to keep Clara in his arms lest Miss Holte should take her by the hand and retire. "How is it, Miss Holte," he said, "that I have not had the pleasure of seeing you before?"

"I do not know," she replied, "unless it is because my duties have never brought me into the part of the house where you, Sir Aubrey, happened to be."

"I knew Clara had a governess but I did not know--" that she was young and beautiful, he was about to add; but one look at the lovely face checked the words on his lips. "I did not know anything more," he said.

"Are you in the habit of coming to the sh.o.r.e every morning?"

"Yes," said Clara, "we love the waves."

"I wish I were a wave," said Sir Aubrey, laughingly.

The child looked up at him with great solemn eyes. "Why, brother?" she asked.

"Because then you would love me."

"I love you now," said Clara, clasping her arms around his neck and kissing his face.

"You are a dear, loving little child," he said, and his voice was so sincere that Miss Holte forgot her shyness and looked at him.

He was a tall, stately gentleman; not handsome, but with a face of decision and truth. He had frank, clear eyes, a good mouth, with kindly lines about it, a quant.i.ty of cl.u.s.tering hair, and a brown beard. It was a true, good face, and the young governess liked him at once. Nothing in his appearance, however, caused her to take such a deep interest in him, but solely the fact that he was Adrian's friend.

Perhaps even that very morning he had been conversing with Adrian--had, perhaps touched his hand. She knew for certain that Adrian had spoken to him of her. Her beautiful eyes lingered on his face as though she would fain read all his thoughts. On his part, Sir Aubrey Dartelle was charmed with the young governess. He said to himself that he had never seen any one half so fair, half so lovely; and he vowed to himself that it should not be his fault if he did not meet her again.

CHAPTER x.x.xIII.

Sir Aubrey Dartelle did not forget that interview; the beautiful face of the young governess haunted him. He went to the sea-sh.o.r.e in the hope of meeting her, but she was prudent and did not go thither. She knew Lady Dartelle's wish that she should not meet any of her visitors--above all, her son. Indeed, when the young girl thought of all that might arise from even that interview, she became frightened.

Those words of Veronica's were always present to her--"he cannot marry her because she has compromised herself." She would not have Adrian see her in this, her fallen and altered state, for the whole world. More than ever she wished to hide herself under the mantle of obscurity. He believed her dead; and, in her n.o.ble, self-sacrificing love, she said it was better it should be so. Suppose that Sir Aubrey should say something to Lord Chandon about her, and he should ask to see her? She must be prudent, and not let Sir Aubrey see her again. So the baronet walked disconsolately along the sh.o.r.e; but the lovely face he had seen there once was not to be met again. He determined that he would see her. She evidently loved Clara, and Clara loved her. It was plain, too, that they spent all their time together. Consequently, wherever Clara went, she would go. He would propose to take the child over to Broughton Park, under the pretext of showing her the beautiful swans there. Most certainly if the child went, the governess would go.

He was absorbed in his plan. Walking one morning with Lord Chandon, he was so long silent that his companion looked into his face with a smile.

"What are you thinking about, Aubrey?" he asked. "I have never seen you so meditative before."

The baronet laughed in his gay, careless fashion.

"I have never had the same cause," he said. "I have seen a face that haunts me, and I cannot forget it."

One of the peculiarities of Lord Chandon was that he never laughed after the fashion of many men, and never jested about _affaires du coeur_.

There was no answering smile on his face, and he said kindly: "There is no cure for that; I know what it is to be haunted through long days and longer nights by one fair face."

"My mother has such a lovely governess," said Sir Aubrey confidingly. "I have never seen a face so beautiful. It seems to me that they keep her a close prisoner, and I am quite determined to see her again."

"Of what use will that be?" inquired Lord Chandon. "Her face haunts you now, you say; the chances are that if you see her again it will trouble you still more. You cannot marry her; why fall in love with her?"

"I have not fallen in love with her yet," said Sir Aubrey; "but I shall if I see much more of her. As for marrying her, I do not see why I should not. She is fair, graceful, and lovely."

"Still, perhaps, she is not the kind of lady you should marry. Let the little child's governess remain in peace, Aubrey. Straight ways are the best ways."

"You are a good fellow," returned the young baronet, easily touched by good advice. "I should like to see you happier, Adrian."

"I shall live my life," said Lord Chandon--and his voice was full of pathos--"do my duty, and die like a Christian, I hope; but my earthly happiness died when I lost my love."