The Lovels of Arden | Page 3

is presence in any way
unpleasant to her, let their journey together last as long as it would.
She sank back into her corner with a feeling of relief. It would have
been more agreeable for her to have had the carriage to herself; but if
she must needs have a companion, there was nothing obnoxious in this

one.
For about an hour they sped on in silence. This evening train was not
exactly an express, but it was a tolerably quick train, and the stoppages
were not frequent. The dull gray twilight melted into a fair tranquil
night. The moon rose early; and the quiet English landscape seemed
very fair to Clarissa Lovel in that serene light. She watched the
shadowy fields flitting past; here and there a still pool, or a glimpse of
running water; beyond, the sombre darkness of wooded hills; and
above that dark background a calm starry sky. Who shall say what dim
poetic thoughts were in her mind that night, as she looked at these
things? Life was so new to her, the future such an unknown country--a
paradise perhaps, or a drear gloomy waste, across which she must
travel with bare bleeding feet. How should she know? She only knew
that she was going home to a father who had never loved her, who had
deferred the day of her coming as long as it was possible for him
decently to do so.
The traveller in the opposite corner of the carriage glanced at Miss
Lovel now and then as she looked out of the window. He could just
contrive to see her profile, dimly lighted by the flickering oil lamp; a
very perfect profile, he thought; a forehead that was neither too high
nor too low, a small aquiline nose, a short upper lip, and the prettiest
mouth and chin in the world. It was just a shade too pensive now, the
poor little mouth, he thought pityingly; and be wondered what it was
like when it smiled. And then he began to arrange his lines for winning
the smile he wanted so much to see from those thoughtful lips. It was,
of course, for the gratification of the idlest, most vagabond curiosity
that he was eager to settle this question: but then on such a long dreary
journey, a man may be forgiven for a good deal of idle curiosity.
He wondered who his companion was, and how she came to be
travelling alone, so young, so pretty, so much in need of an escort.
There was nothing in her costume to hint at poverty, nor does poverty
usually travel in first-class carriages. She might have her maid lurking
somewhere in the second-class, he said to himself. In any case, she was
a lady. He had no shadow of doubt about that.

She was tall, above the ordinary height of women. There was a grace in
the long flowing lines of her figure more striking than the beauty of her
face. The long slim throat, the sloping shoulder, not to be disguised
even by the clumsy folds of a thick shawl--these the traveller noted, in
a lazy contemplative mood, as he lolled in his corner, meditating an
easy opening for a conversation with his fair fellow-voyager.
He let some little time slip by in this way, being a man to whom haste
was almost unknown. This idle artistic consideration of Miss Level's
beauty was a quiet kind of enjoyment for him. She, for her part, seemed
absorbed in watching the landscape--a very commonplace English
landscape in the gentleman's eyes--and was in no way disturbed by his
placid admiration.
He had a heap of newspapers and magazines thrown pell-mell into the
empty seat next him; and arousing himself with a faint show of effort
presently, he began to turn these over with a careless hand.
The noise of his movements startled Clarissa; she looked across at him,
and their eyes met. This was just what he wanted. He had been curious
to see her eyes. They were hazel, and very beautiful, completing the
charm of her face.
"May I offer you some of these things?" he said. "I have a reading lamp
in one of my bags, which I will light for you in a moment. I won't
pledge myself for your finding the magazines very amusing, but
anything is better than the blankness of a long dreary journey."
"Thank you, you are very kind; but I don't care about reading to-night; I
could not give you so much trouble."
"Pray don't consider that. It is not a question of a moments trouble. I'll
light the lamp, and then you can do as you like about the magazines."
He stood up, unlocked one of his travelling-bags, the interior of which
glittered like a miniature