"She called him a 'titled fool' once, but perhaps that didn't mean
anything. Did you ever ask her about him?" said Coventry, feeling rather
ashamed of his curiosity, yet unable to resist the temptation of
questioning unsuspecting Bella.
"Yes, but she only looked at me in her tragical way, and said, so
pitifully, 'My little friend, I hope you will never have to pass through
the scenes I've passed through, but keep your peace unbroken all your
life.' After that I dared say no more. I'm very fond of her, I want to
make her happy, but I don't know how. Can you propose anything?"
"I was going to propose that you make her come among us more, now Ned is
gone. It must be dull for her, moping about alone. I'm sure it is for
me. She is an entertaining little person, and I enjoy her music very
much. It's good for Mamma to have gay evenings; so you bestir yourself,
and see what you can do for the general good of the family."
"That's all very charming, and I've proposed it more than once, but
Lucia spoils all my plans. She is afraid you'll follow Ned's example,
and that is so silly."
"Lucia is a--no, I won't say fool, because she has sense enough when she
chooses; but I wish you'd just settle things with Mamma, and then Lucia
can do nothing but submit," said Gerald angrily.
"I'll try, but she goes up to read to Uncle, you know, and since he has
had the gout, she stays later, so I see little of her in the evening.
There she goes now. I think she will captivate the old one as well as
the young one, she is so devoted."
Coventry looked after her slender black figure, just vanishing through
the great gate, and an uncomfortable fancy took possession of him, born
of Bella's careless words. He sauntered away, and after eluding his
cousin, who seemed looking for him, he turned toward the Hall, saying to
himself, I will see what is going on up here. Such things have happened.
Uncle is the simplest soul alive, and if the girl is ambitious, she can
do what she will with him.
Here a servant came running after him and gave him a letter, which he
thrust into his pocket without examining it. When he reached the Hall,
he went quietly to his uncle's study. The door was ajar, and looking in,
he saw a scene of tranquil comfort, very pleasant to watch. Sir John
leaned in his easy chair with one foot on a cushion. He was dressed with
his usual care and, in spite of the gout, looked like a handsome,
well-preserved old gentleman. He was smiling as he listened, and his
eyes rested complacently on Jean Muir, who sat near him reading in her
musical voice, while the sunshine glittered on her hair and the soft
rose of her cheek. She read well, yet Coventry thought her heart was not
in her task, for once when she paused, while Sir John spoke, her eyes
had an absent expression, and she leaned her head upon her hand, with an
air of patient weariness.