"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.




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