Chapter 25 - Page 2

At her house he presented himself when first he came up--short, burly,
red-faced, and in his best Gloucestershire clothes, which indeed wore a
rustic air when borne to London on the broad back of a country
gentleman in a somewhat rusty periwig.

When he beheld the outside stateliness of the big town mansion he
grinned with delight; when he entered its doors and saw its interior
splendours he stared about him with wondering eyes; and when he was
passed from point to point by one tall and gorgeously liveried lacquey
after another, he grew sober. When her ladyship came to him shortly
after, she found him standing in the middle of the magnificent saloon
(which had been rearranged and adorned for her by her late lord in
white and golden panels, with decoration of garlands and Cupids and
brocades after the manner of the French King Louis Fourteenth), and he
was gazing about him still, and now scratching his periwig absently.

"Eh, my lady," he said, making an awkward bow, as if he did not know
how to bear himself in the midst of such surroundings; "thy father was
right."

Never had he seen a lady clad in such rich stuffs and looking so grand
and like a young queen, but her red lips parted, showing her white
teeth, and her big black eyes laughed as merrily as ever he had seen
them when Clo Wildairs tramped across the moors with him, her gun over
her fustian shoulder.

"Was he so?" she cried, taking hold of his thick hand and drawing him
towards a huge gold carved sofa. "Come and tell me then when he was
right, and if 'twas thou wast wrong."

Sir Chris stared at her a minute, straight at her arch, brilliant face,
and then his rueful countenance relaxed itself into a grin.

"Ecod!" he said, still staring hard, "thou art not changed a whit."

"Ecod!" she said, mocking him, "but I am that. Shame on thee to deny
it. I am a Countess and have been presented to the Queen, and cast my
ill manners, and can make a Court obeisance." And she made him a great,
splendid courtesy, sweeping down amidst her rich brocades as if she
would touch the floor.

"Lord! Lord!" he said, and scratched his periwig again. "Thou look'st
like a Queen thyself. But 'tis thy big eyes are not changed, Clo, that
laughed so through the black fringes of them, like stars shining
through a bush, and--and thy saucy way that makes a man want to seize
hold on thee and hug thee--though--though--" He checked himself,
half-frightened, but she laughed out at him with that bell-like
clearness he remembered so well, and which he swore afterwards would
put heart into any man.

"'Tis no harm that a man should want