"My cushion and my worsteds, mother!"
"Well, then, I will send Dinorah for them with a civil message. That
will be right."
So Lysbet turned and left the room. She did not notice the rebellious
look on her daughter's face, the lowering brows, the resentment in the
glance that followed her, the lips firmly set to the mental purpose. "To
see her lover at all risks"--that was the purpose; but how best to
accomplish it, was not clear to her. The ways of the household were so
orderly, so many things brought the family together during the day,
Lysbet and Joanna kept such a loving watch over her, the road between
their own house and the Semples' was so straight and unscreened, and she
was, beside, such a novice in deception,--all these circumstances
flashing at once across her mind made her, for a moment or two, almost
despair.
But she lifted the key given her and went to the parlour. It was a
large, low room, with wainscoted walls, and a big tiled fireplace nearly
filling one end of it. The blinds were closed, but there was enough
light to reveal its quaint and almost foreign character. Great jars with
dragons at the handles stood in the recesses made by large oak cabinets,
black with age, and elaborately carved with a marvellous nicety and
skill. The oval tables were full of curious bits of china, dainty
Oriental wicker work, exquisite shells on lacquered trays, wonderfully
wrought workboxes and fans and amulets. The odours of calamus and myrrh
and camphor from strange continents mingled with the faint perfume of
the dried rose leaves and the scent-bags of English lavender. Many of
these rare and beautiful things were the spoils brought from India and
Java by the sea-going Van Heemskirks of past generations. Others had
come at long intervals as gifts from the captains of ships with whom the
house did business. Katherine had often seen such visitors--men with
long hair and fierce looks, and the pallor of hot, moist lands below the
tan of wind and sunshine. It had always been her delight to dust and
care for these various treasures; and the room itself, with its
suggestive aromas, was her favourite hiding-place. Here she had made her
own fairy tales, and built the enchanted castles which the less
fortunate children of this day have clever writers build for them.
And at length the prince of her imagination had come! As she moved about
among the strange carven toys and beautiful ornaments, she could think
only of him,--of his stately manner and dark, handsome face. Simple,
even rustic, she might be; but she understood that he had treated her
with as much deference and homage as if she had been a princess. She
recalled every word he said to her as they sat under the water beeches.
More vividly still she recalled the tender light in his eyes, the
lingering clasp of his hand, his low, persuasive voice, and that
nameless charm of fashion and culture which perhaps impressed her more
than any other thing.