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laughing too。
〃I can't make him out；〃 said he。 〃I try； but he is one too many。 No
doubt it is very stupid of me； I don't deny it。 But as long as I cannot there
is no use pretending that I can。 And then of course she feels hurt； for she
is very fond of him； and likes to read him aloud in the evenings。 She is
reading a piece now ‘Pippa Passes；' and I assure you； Miss Walker； that I
don't even know what the title means。 You must think me a dreadful
fool。〃
〃But surely he is not so incomprehensible as all that？〃 she said； as an
attempt at encouragement。
〃He is very bad。 There are some things； you know； which are fine。
That ride of the three Dutchmen； and Herve Riel and others； they are all
right。 But there was a piece we read last week。 The first line stumped
my aunt； and it takes a good deal to do that； for she rides very straight。
‘Setebos and Setebos and Setebos。' That was the line。〃
〃It sounds like a charm。〃
〃No； it is a gentleman's name。 Three gentlemen； I thought； at first；
but my aunt says one。 Then he goes on； ‘Thinketh he dwelleth in the
light of the moon。' It was a very trying piece。〃
Clara Walker laughed again。
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〃You must not think of leaving your aunt；〃 she said。 〃Think how
lonely she would be without you。〃
〃Well； yes； I have thought of that。 But you must remember that my
aunt is to all intents hardly middle…aged； and a very eligible person。 I
don't think that her dislike to mankind extends to individuals。 She might
form new ties； and then I should be a third wheel in the coach。 It was all
very well as long as I was only a boy； when her first husband was alive。〃
〃But； good gracious； you don't mean that Mrs。 Westmacott is going to
marry again？〃 gasped Clara。
The young man glanced down at her with a question in his eyes 〃Oh；
it is only a remote； possibility； you know；〃 said he。 〃Still； of course； it
might happen； and I should like to know what I ought to turn my hand to。〃
〃I wish I could help you；〃 said Clara。 〃But I really know very little
about such things。 However； I could talk to my father； who knows a very
great deal of the world。〃
〃I wish you would。 I should be so glad if you would。〃
〃Then I certainly will。 And now I must say good…night； Mr。
Westmacott； for papa will be wondering where I am。〃
〃Good night； Miss Walker。〃 He pulled off his flannel cap； and stalked
away through the gathering darkness。
Clara had imagined that they had been the last on the lawn； but；
looking back from the steps which led up to the French windows； she saw
two dark figures moving across towards the house。 As they came nearer
she could distinguish that they were Harold Denver and her sister Ida。
The murmur of their voices rose up to her ears； and then the musical little
child…like laugh which she knew so well。 〃I am so delighted；〃 she heard
her sister say。 〃So pleased and proud。 I had no idea of it。 Your words
were such a surprise and a joy to me。 Oh； I am so glad。〃
〃Is that you； Ida？〃
〃Oh； there is Clara。 I must go in； Mr。 Denver。 Good…night！〃
There were a few whispered words； a laugh from Ida； and a 〃Good…
night； Miss Walker；〃 out of the darkness。 Clara took her sister's hand；
and they passed together through the long folding window。 The Doctor
had gone into his study； and the dining…room was empty。 A single small
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red lamp upon the sideboard was reflected tenfold by the plate about it and
the mahogany beneath it； though its single wick cast but a feeble light into
the large； dimly shadowed room。 Ida danced off to the big central lamp；
but Clara put her hand upon her arm。 〃I rather like this quiet light；〃 said
she。 〃Why should we not have a chat？〃 She sat in the Doctor's large
red plush chair； and her sister cuddled down upon the footstool at her feet；
glancing up at her elder with a smile upon her lips and a mischievous
gleam in her eyes。 There was a shade of anxiety in Clara's face； which
cleared away as she gazed into her sister's frank blue eyes。
〃Have you anything to tell me； dear？〃 she asked。
Ida gave a little pout and shrug to her shoulder。 〃The Solicitor…
General then opened the case for the prosecution；〃 said she。 〃You are
going to cross…examine me； Clara； so don't deny it。 I do wish you would
have that grey satin foulard of yours done up。 With a little trimming and
a new white vest it would look as good as new； and it is really very
dowdy。〃
〃You were quite late upon the lawn；〃 said the inexorable Clara。
〃Yes； I was rather。 So were you。 Have you anything to tell me？〃
She broke away into her merry musical laugh。
〃I was chatting with Mr。 Westmacott。〃
〃And I was chatting with Mr。 Denver。 By the way； Clara； now tell me
truly； what do you think of Mr。 Denver？ Do you like him？ Honestly
now！〃
〃I like him very much indeed。 I think that he is one of the most
gentlemanly； modest； manly young men that I have ever known。 So now；
dear； have you nothing to tell me？〃 Clara smoothed down her sister's
golden hair with a motherly gesture； and stooped her face to catch the
expected confidence。 She could wish nothing better than that Ida should
be the wife of Harold Denver； and from the words which she had
overheard as they left the lawn that evening； she could not doubt that there
was some understanding between them。
But there came no confession from Ida。 Only the same mischievous
smile and amused gleam in her deep blue eyes。
〃That grey foulard dress〃 she began。
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〃Oh； you little tease！ Come now； I will ask you what you have just
asked me。 Do you like Harold Denver？〃
〃Oh； he's a darling！〃
〃Ida！〃
〃Well； you asked me。 That's what I think of him。 And now； you
dear old inquisitive； you will get nothing more out of me； so you must
wait and not be too curious。 I'm going off to see what papa is doing。〃
She sprang to her feet； threw her arms round her sister's neck； gave her a
final squeeze； and was gone。 A chorus from Olivette； sung in her clear
contralto； grew fainter and fainter until it ended in the slam of a distant
door。
But Clara Walker still sat in the dim…lit room with her chin upon her
hands； and her dreamy eyes looking out into the gathering gloom。 It was
the duty of her； a maiden； to play the part of a motherto guide another in
paths which her own steps had not yet trodden。 Since her mother died
not a thought had been given to herself； all was for her father and her sister。
In her own eyes she was herself very plain； and she knew that her manner
was often ungracious when she would most wish to be gracious。 She saw
her face as the glass reflected it； but she did not see the changing play of
expression which gave it its charmthe infinite pity； the sympathy； the
sweet womanliness which drew towards her all who were in doubt and in
trouble； even as poor slow…moving Charles Westmacott had been drawn to
her that night。 She was herself； she thought； outside the pale of love。
But it was very different with Ida； merry； little； quick…witted； bright…faced
Ida。 She was born for love。 It was her inheritance。 But she was
young and innocent。 She must not be allowed to venture too far without
help in those dangerous waters。 Some understanding there was between
her and Harold Denver。 In her heart of hearts Clara；