The Highwayman | Page 9

full of Eastern china. In the midst Lady Waverton reclined.
She had been handsome in a large, bold style, and might still have been but for excessive decoration. Her dress was voluminous white satin embroidered in a big pattern of gold and set off with black. It was low at her opulent bosom, to the curves of which the eye was directed by black patches craftily fixed. There were many more patches on her face which, still only a little too full and too loose, had its colours laid on in sharp and vivid contrasts. Her black hair was erected in symmetrical waves high above her brow, and one ringlet was brought by glossy, frozen curls to caress her bosom. She held out the whitest of hands drooping from a large but still fine arm for Mr. Hadley to kiss.
"You are a bad fellow, Charles Hadley," she pouted. "You make me feel old."
"There's a common childish fancy, ma'am."
"You never come to see me now. And when you do come, 'tis not to see me."
"A thousand pardons. Mr. Boyce delayed me awhile with the beauties of his conversation."
"Mr. Boyce?" she looked at Harry as if wondering that he dared exist. "Go and see why they do not bring in dinner."
Having thus diminished Harry, she proceeded, without waiting for him to be gone, to criticize him. "You know, I would never have a chaplain in the house. This tutor fellow is of the same breed, Charles. They tease me, these men which are neither gentlemen nor servants. Faith, life's hard for the poor wretches. They are torn 'twixt their conceit and their poverty. They know not from minute to minute whether they will fawn or be insolent. So they do both indifferent ill."
Harry, who chose not to hear, was opening the door. There came in upon him a woman--the young woman of the coach. Even as he recoiled, bowing, even as he collected his startled wits, he was aware of the singular beauty of her complexion. Its delicacy, its life, were nonpareil. The first clear process of his mind was to wonder how he had contrived not to remark that complexion when first he saw her.
Lady Waverton lifted up her voice. "Alison! Dear child! And are you home at last? It's delicious in you. You seek us out first, do you not? My sweet girl!" Alison was engulfed. Conceive apple blossom in the embraces of a peony.
The apple blossom emerged with a calm, "Dear Lady Waverton."
"You are a sad bad thing. I writ you five letters, I think, and not one from you."
"You are so much cleverer than I am. I had nothing to say." Alison's voice was sweet and low, but too sublimely calm for perfect comfort in her hearers. "So here I am to say it and make my excuses," she dropped a small curtsey, "my lady. Why, Geoffrey, I thought you had been back at Oxford!"
Mr. Waverton came forward, smiling magnificence. "I am delighted to disappoint you, Alison."
"Nay, never believe her, Geoffrey," Lady Waverton lifted up her voice and was arch. "I vow she counted on finding you here. Why else had she come? I know when I was a toast I wasted none of my time going to see old women," she languished affectionately at the girl.
"Dear Lady Waverton,"--if it was possible, Alison's voice became calmer than ever--"how well you know me. And how cruel to expose me. If Geoffrey had his mother's wit, faith, I should never dare come here at all."
"It is not my wit which you need ever fear, Alison," Geoffrey's eyes were ardent upon her.
"Why, you are merciful. Or is it modest?"
"I can be neither, Alison. I am a man."
"My dear Geoffrey, I am sorry for all your misfortunes." She turned from him to Mr. Hadley, who was content in a corner. "Have we quarrelled?"
"We never loved each other well enough."
"Is that why I am always very glad to see Mr. Hadley?"
"It is why he can tell Miss Lambourne that she looks divinely beautiful."
"That means inhuman, sir."
"Which is not my fault, ma'am."
Geoffrey was visibly restive at his exclusion, "Charles never could pay a compliment without a sting in it."
"That is why they are agreeable, sir," said she.
"That is why they are true," said Hadley in the same breath, and they laughed together.
Lady Waverton interfered imperiously. "Alison, dear, come sit by me and tell me all about yourself."
"Faith, not with the gentlemen to listen," said she, and was saved by Harry and the butler, who came in together announcing dinner.
Lady Waverton rose elaborately. "Give me your arm, Charles. My dear Alison--"
"But who is this?" Alison said, and she stared with placid, candid interest at Harry. With equal composure Harry stared back. But there was no candour in his expressionless face. For he had become keenly aware