"You see, there's everything in his favor," he said, complacently. "A fine const.i.tution, a fine time of year--youth, and the best climate in England."

It was highly satisfactory that he should make such excellent use of his advantages.

"I feel to-day as if I could walk a mile," he said, with pride, stretching his long legs and arms and tossing his head.

"I am glad you are feeling so well. You are going to have a visitor this afternoon--Miss Brabourne, who found you lying by the roadside; she is so eager to see you."

Osmond blushed--actually blushed with pleasure. He was not very strong yet, and his heart beat stormily at thought of the coming meeting. All through his delirium a certain face had haunted him--a girl's face, which he always seemed to see when he closed his eyes. With returning consciousness the vision fled--he could not recall the features, but he had a feeling that they were the features of Elsa Brabourne, and that, if he saw her again, he should know her.

"I'll go down as far as the stile, and see if I can see her," said Wyn; and, tossing her work to the ground, she rose and went wandering off among the flower-beds, singing to herself, and picking a rosebud here and there.

"I envy you your sister, Mr. Allonby," said Henry Fowler.

"Who? Wyn?" asked Osmond. "Yes she is a very good sort; but you should see Hilda and Jacqueline; they are both uncommonly pretty girls, though I say it."

"I think Miss Allonby pretty."

"Wyn? Oh, no, she isn't," was the fraternal criticism. "I've seen her look well, but you can't call her pretty; but I suppose she is attractive--some men seem to find her so."

"Ah!" said Mr. Fowler.

"But she is not at all impressionable," said Wyn's brother.

Meanwhile Wyn was walking down the Waste in happy unconsciousness of being the subject of discussion, and presently was seen to wave her hand and begin to run forward. She and Elsa met in the middle of the Waste, and exchanged greetings. Jane Gollop was far behind--she was growing used to this now, and took it as a matter of course that the young feet which for years had dragged listlessly at her side should now, for very gaiety and youth, outstrip her.

Now that Elsa's face wore that sparkling look of animation, now that her luxuriant tresses were piled cla.s.sically on the crown of her beautiful head, the barbarity of her costume really sank into insignificance, triumphed over by sheer force of her fresh loveliness. Her glow of color made the pale Wynifred look paler, the girls were a great contrast.

"How is Mr. Allonby? Is he going on well?" panted Elsa, before she had recovered her breath.

"Capitally, thank you. Dr. Forbes says he never knew such a quick convalescence."

"Oh, how glad I am! Is he ... do you think ... it is so very fine to-day ... is Mr. Allonby in the garden?"

The shyness and confusion were very pretty, thought Wyn.

"Yes," she said, delighted to be able to call the warm clear color into the speaking face. "He is sitting in the garden, and is so impatient to see you. Come this way."

No need to speak twice. Elsa's feet seemed scarcely to touch the ground in their transit across the s.p.a.ce which intervened between her and the hero of her dreams.

Osmond would insist on rising from his chair to greet her; and his tall form looked taller than ever now that he was so thin.

Elsa drew near, hardly knowing where she was or what she was doing--little recking that he was to the full as excited as she.

They met; their hands touched; the girl could hardly see clearly through the mist of tears in her large speaking eyes. He looked straight at her, saw the crystal mist, saw one irrepressible drop over-brim the lid, and rest on the delicate cheek. A storm of feeling overcame him; he grew quite white.

It was the face of the mystic queen in his visions of Avilion--it was beauty of the type he most pa.s.sionately admired; and beauty which was stirred to its depths by pity and sympathy for him.

He could say nothing articulate, neither could she. Their greeting was chiefly that of eyes, and of warmly grasping hands, for she had stretched both to him, and he had seized them.

How long did it last? They did not know. To Osmond it seemed, like the dreams of his fever, to last for hours, and yet be gone like a flash.

He only knew that presently he found himself seated again in his chair, his fingers released from the warm touch of hers; that she was sitting by him on Wynifred's vacated seat; that the skies had not fallen, nor the shadows on the gra.s.s lengthened perceptibly; and that neither Wyn nor Mr. Fowler expressed any surprise in their countenances, as if anything unusual had transpired.

Apparently he had not openly made a fool of himself. He heaved a sigh of relief, and lay back among his cushions. There sat the lady of his dreams, no longer a phantom, a real girl of flesh and blood, with large eyes of morning grey fixed on him.

He fancied how those calm eyes, like the misty dawn of a glorious day, would gradually warm and deepen into the torrid splendor of noon; when what was now only sympathetic interest should have strengthened into pa.s.sionate love, when his voice, his touch should alone have power to----

Alas! as usual, he was building an airy cloud-palace for his thoughts to live in; and here was the real earth, and here was himself, a poor, struggling young artist, a compet.i.tor in one of London's fiercest and most crowded fields of compet.i.tion, and with three unmarried sisters to think of.

And there was she--could he dream of it for her? The future of a poor man's wife. _Wife!_ The exquisite delight of that word, by force of contrast, calmed this enthusiast utterly. No. To him nothing nearer than a star, an ideal. His Beatrice, only to be longed for, never attained.

And all this he had time to think of, while Wyn was cheerfully telling Elsa that he had that day eaten a piece of lamb, and "quite a great deal" of milky pudding for his dinner, which hopeful bulletin of his appet.i.te was received with marked interest both by Mr. Fowler and his G.o.d-daughter.

And then Elaine turned her bashful eyes on him, and he heard her voice saying,

"I am so glad you are getting well so fast. I was very unhappy when they thought you would not live."

"Were you?" he said, hoping his voice did not sound as queer to the others as it did to himself. "It was very philanthropical of you. That gift of pity is one of woman's most gracious attributes."

Elsa was developing very fast, but she was not yet equal to replying to this speech.

"I think I have been altogether far more fortunate than I deserve," went on Osmond. "Everyone in this fairy valley had vied in their efforts to be kind to me. Your good aunts, Mr. Fowler here, Mr. Cranmer and Lady Mabel, not to mention Dr. Forbes, Mrs. Battishill, and Mrs. Clapp."

Elsa was still tongue-tied; and, oh! it was hard, when she had so much to say to him. How kindly he spoke! How handsome he looked when he smiled! If only she knew what to say!

At this embarra.s.sing juncture, Jane scrambled over the stile, grasping a covered basket. Like lightning the girl leaped up, ran to her nurse, and, taking her burden, carried it back to the young man's side.

"I brought these for you," she faltered. "The strawberries are over, but here are white currants and raspberries ... raspberries are very good with cream. Do you like them?"

"Like them? I should think so! My appet.i.te is quite tremendous, as Wyn told you. Will you carry back my sincere thanks to Miss Willoughby for her kind thought?"

She blushed, and then smiled, rising her face to his.

"It was my thought," she said, timidly; "the aunts said they were not good enough to bring, and I went to Lower House for the currants," she concluded, nodding mischeviously to her G.o.dfather.

"Like your impudence!" he answered, pretending to shake a fist at her.

"Now, Miss Allonby, I must be going; won't you show me the picture you are doing of Saul Parker?"

"Oh, yes, I should like to. I hope you will think it a good likeness,"

answered Wyn, eagerly.

She rose, and walked slowly into the house with Mr. Fowler, leaving the two seated together on the lawn, conscious of nothing in all the world but each other's presence.

There was a little pause; then Elaine gathered courage. It was easier for them to talk with no listeners.

"I saw you before you were hurt," she announced, blushing.

"You saw me?" cried Osmond, devoured with interest. "Where? I never saw you."

"No; I was behind your back. I was coming up to the farm; you were sitting at your easel. Your head was resting on your hands. I wanted to go and ask you if you were ill; but Jane hurried me on."