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THE LOVLIEST CREATURE I HAD EVER SEEN.]
'I'm very sorry, Mrs Wilson,' said the girl merrily. 'Only you see if
it had been a ghost it couldn't have been me.'
'How's your papa, Miss Clara?'
'Oh! he's always quite well.'
'When did you see him?'
'To-day. He's at home with grandpapa now.'
'And you ran away and left him?'
'Not quite that. He and grandpapa went out about some business--to the
copse at Deadman's Hollow, I think. They didn't want my advice--they
never do; so I came to see you, Mrs Wilson.'
By this time I had been able to look at the girl. She was a year or two
older than myself, I thought, and the loveliest creature I had ever
seen. She had large blue eyes of the rare shade called violet, a little
round perhaps, but the long lashes did something to rectify that fault;
and a delicate nose--turned up a little of course, else at her age she
could not have been so pretty. Her mouth was well curved, expressing a
full share of Paley's happiness; her chin was something large and
projecting, but the lines were fine. Her hair was a light brown, but
dark for her eyes, and her complexion would have been enchanting to any
one fond of the 'sweet mixture, red and white.' Her figure was that of
a girl of thirteen, undetermined--but therein I was not critical. 'An
exceeding fair forehead,' to quote Sir Philip Sidney, and plump, white,
dimple-knuckled hands complete the picture sufficiently for the
present. Indeed it would have been better to say only that I was taken
with her, and then the reader might fancy her such as he would have
been taken with himself. But I was not fascinated. It was only that I
was a boy and she was a girl, and there being no element of decided
repulsion, I felt kindly disposed towards her.
Mrs Wilson turned to me.
'Well, Master Cumbermede, you see I am able to give you more than I
promised.'
'Yes,' I returned; 'you promised to show me the old house--'
'And here,' she interposed, 'I show you a young lady as well.'
'Yes, thank you,' I said simply. But I had a feeling that Mrs Wilson
was not absolutely well-pleased.
I was rather shy of Miss Clara--not that I was afraid of her, but that
I did not exactly know what was expected of me, and Mrs Wilson gave us
no further introduction to each other. I was not so shy, however, as
not to wish Mrs Wilson would leave us together, for then, I thought, we
should get on well enough; but such was not her intent. Desirous of
being agreeable, however--as far as I knew how, and remembering that
Mrs Wilson had given me the choice before, I said to her--
'Mightn't we go and look at the deer, Mrs Wilson?'
'You had better not,' she answered. 'They are rather ill-tempered just
now. They might run at you. I heard them fighting last night, and
knocking their horns together dreadfully.'
'Then we'd better not,' said Clara. 'They frightened me very much
yesterday.'
We were following Mrs Wilson from the room. As we passed the hall-door,
we peeped in.
'Do you like such great high places?' asked Clara.
'Yes, I do,' I answered. 'I like great high places. It makes you gasp
somehow.'
'Are you fond of gasping? Does it do you good?' she asked, with a
mock-simplicity which might be humour or something not so pleasant.
'Yes, I think it does,' I answered. 'It pleases me.'
'I don't like it. I like a quiet snug place like the library--not a
great wide place like this, that looks as if it had swallowed you and
didn't know it.'
'What a clever creature she is!' I thought. We turned away and followed
Mrs Wilson again.
I had expected to spend the rest of the day with her, but the moment we
reached her apartment, she got out a bottle of her home-made wine and
some cake, saying it was time for me to go home. I was much
disappointed--the more that the pretty Clara remained behind; but what
could I do? I strolled back to Aldwick with my head fuller than ever of
fancies new and old. But Mrs Wilson had said nothing of going to see
her again, and without an invitation I could not venture to revisit the
Hall.
In pondering over the events of the day, I gave the man I had met in
the wood a full share in my meditations.
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