Behind a Mask

"By no means. Come and have some tea," said Bella, full of pity

and remorse.

"Scene first, very well done," whispered Gerald to his cousin.

Miss Muir was just before them, apparently listening to Mrs. Coventry's

remarks upon fainting fits; but she heard, and looked over her shoulders

with a gesture like Rachel. Her eyes were gray, but at that instant they

seemed black with some strong emotion of anger, pride, or defiance. A

curious smile passed over her face as she bowed, and said in her

penetrating voice, "Thanks. The last scene shall be still better."

Young Coventry was a cool, indolent man, seldom conscious of any

emotion, any passion, pleasurable or otherwise; but at the look, the

tone of the governess, he experienced a new sensation, indefinable, yet

strong. He colored and, for the first time in his life, looked abashed.

Lucia saw it, and hated Miss Muir with a sudden hatred; for, in all the

years she had passed with her cousin, no look or word of hers had

possessed such power. Coventry was himself again in an instant, with no

trace of that passing change, but a look of interest in his usually

dreamy eyes, and a touch of anger in his sarcastic voice.

"What a melodramatic young lady! I shall go tomorrow."

Lucia laughed, and was well pleased when he sauntered away to bring her

a cup of tea from the table where a little scene was just taking place.

Mrs. Coventry had sunk into her chair again, exhausted by the flurry of

the fainting fit. Bella was busied about her; and Edward, eager to feed

the pale governess, was awkwardly trying to make the tea, after a

beseeching glance at his cousin which she did not choose to answer. As

he upset the caddy and uttered a despairing exclamation, Miss Muir

quietly took her place behind the urn, saying with a smile, and a shy

glance at the young man, "Allow me to assume my duty at once, and serve

you all. I understand the art of making people comfortable in this way.

The scoop, please. I can gather this up quite well alone, if you will

tell me how your mother likes her tea."

Edward pulled a chair to the table and made merry over his mishaps,

while Miss Muir performed her little task with a skill and grace that

made it pleasant to watch her. Coventry lingered a moment after she had

given him a steaming cup, to observe her more nearly, while he asked a

question or two of his brother. She took no more notice of him than if

he had been a statue, and in the middle of the one remark he addressed

to her, she rose to take the sugar basin to Mrs. Coventry, who was quite

won by the modest, domestic graces of the new governess.