Chapter 7 - Page 2

attracted by some
figure he discovered in the garden appertaining to that modest structure.

"By Jove!" he exclaimed, in an undertone, "there is Miss Octavia."

For the moment he was almost roused to a display of interest. A faint
smile lighted his face, and his cold, handsome eyes slightly brightened.

Lady Theobald sat bolt upright.

"That is Miss Bassett's niece, from America," she said. "Do I understand
you know her?"

Capt. Barold turned to confront her, evidently annoyed at having allowed
a surprise to get the better of him. All expression died out of his face.

"I travelled with her from Framwich to Stamford," he said. "I suppose we
should have reached Slowbridge together, but that I dropped off at
Stamford to get a newspaper, and the train left me behind."

"O grandmamma!" exclaimed Lucia, who had turned to look, "how very pretty
she is!"

Miss Octavia certainly was amazingly so this morning. She was standing by
a rosebush again, and was dressed in a cashmere morning-robe of the
finest texture and the faintest pink: it had a Watteau plait down the
back, _jabot_ of lace down the front, and the close, high frills of lace
around the throat which seemed to be a weakness with her. Her hair was
dressed high upon her head, and showed to advantage her little ears and
as much of her slim white neck as the frills did not conceal.

But Lady Theobald did not share Lucia's enthusiasm.

"She looks like an actress," she said. "If the trees were painted canvas
and the roses artificial, one might have some patience with her. That
kind of thing is scarcely what we expect in Slowbridge."

Then she turned to Barold.

"I had the pleasure of meeting her yesterday, not long after she
arrived," she said. "She had diamonds in her ears as big as peas, and
rings to match. Her manner is just what one might expect from a young
woman brought up among gold-diggers and silver-miners."

"It struck me as being a very unique and interesting manner," said Capt.
Barold. "It is chiefly noticeable for a _sang-froid_ which might be
regarded as rather enviable. She was good enough to tell me all about her
papa and the silver-mines, and I really found the conversation
entertaining."

"It is scarcely customary for English young women to confide in their
masculine travelling companions to such an extent," remarked my lady
grimly.

"She did not confide in me at all," said Barold. "Therein lay her
attraction. One cannot submit to being 'confided in' by a strange young
woman, however charming. This young lady's remarks were