At Love's Cost

She giggled and simpered significantly; and Ida, trying to force

herself to take some interest, fastened the collar for Isabel, and

gently and with much tact persuaded that inartistic young lady to

discard a huge crimson bow which she had stuck on her dress with

disastrous results. When, some little time after, Ida went down to the

drawing-room, she found that the visitor was like most of those who

came to Laburnum Villa, very worthy people, no doubt, but uninteresting

and commonplace. This Mr. George Powler was a heavy thick-set man,

approaching middle age, with the air of a prosperous merchant, and with

a somewhat shy and awkward manner; it seemed to Ida that he looked

rather bored as he sat on one of the stiff, uncomfortable chairs, with

the mother and daughter "engaging him in conversation," as they would

have called it. His shyness and awkwardness were intensified by the

entrance of the tall, graceful girl in her black dress, and he rose to

receive the introduction with a startled kind of nervousness, which was

reasonable enough; for the young women with whom he associated were not

dowered with Ida's very palpable grace and refinement.

Ida bowed to him, made some remark about the weather, and went over

with a book to the sofa with the broken spring--and promptly forgot his

existence. But her indifference was not reciprocated; the man was

painfully aware of her presence, and after endeavouring to carry on the

conversation with Isabel, grew absent-minded and incoherent, and

presently, as if he could not help himself, got up and, edging to the

sofa nervously, sat down and tried to talk.

Ida closed her book, and, as in duty bound, was civil to him, though

not perhaps so civil as she would have been to a man of her own age and

class; but Mr. George Powler, no doubt encouraged by her gentleness,

serenity, and perfect self-possession--qualities none too common in the

class to which he belonged--grew less nervous, and, to his own

amazement, found himself talking presently quite fluently to this

distinguished-looking young lady whose entrance of the drawing-room had

struck him with awe. With instinctive courteousness and kindness, Ida

had asked him some question about South Australia, and he was led to

talk of his life there, and to describe the country.

Ida found her thoughts wandering after a few minutes, and grew

absent-minded; but Mr. George Powler was launched, on his favourite

subject, was delighted with the condescension of the beautiful and

stately listener, and did not notice that she was scarcely listening;

did not notice also that Mrs. Heron was looking discontented and

sniffing peevishly, and that Isabel's face wore an expression of

jealousy and resentment. The fact was, that the poor man had quite

forgotten the other young woman--and the other young woman knew it.