A few days ago, just as we were finishing a late breakfast, an
elderly gentleman drove up in a private hansom, and alighted at this
vacant house on the opposite side. Behind him, in a cab, came two
men, who unlocked the front door, went in, came out on the balcony,
cut the wires supporting the sign, took it down, opened all the
inside shutters, and disappeared through some rear entrance. The
elderly gentleman went upstairs for a moment, came down again, and
drove away.
"The house has been sold, I suppose," said Salemina; "and for my
part I envy the new owner his bargain. He is close to Piccadilly,
has that bit of side lawn with the superb oak-tree, and the duke's
beautiful gardens so near that they will seem virtually his own when
he looks from his upper windows."
At tea-time the same elderly gentleman drove up in a victoria, with
a very pretty young lady.
"The plot thickens," said Francesca, who was nearest the window.
"Do you suppose she is his bride-elect, and is he showing her their
future home, or is she already his wife? If so, I fear me she
married him for his title and estates, for he is more than a shade
too old for her."
"Don't be censorious, child," I remonstrated, taking my cup idly
across the room, to be nearer the scene of action. "Oh, dear! there
is a slight discrepancy, I confess, but I can explain it. This is
how it happened: The girl had never really loved, and did not know
what the feeling was. She did know that the aged suitor was a good
and worthy man, and her mother and nine small brothers and sisters
(very much out at the toes) urged the marriage. The father, too,
had speculated heavily in consorts or consuls, or whatever-you-call-
'ems, and besought his child not to expose his defalcations and
losses. She, dutiful girl, did as she was bid, especially as her
youngest sister came to her in tears and said, 'Unless you consent
we shall have to sell the cow!' So she went to the altar with a
heart full of palpitating respect, but no love to speak of; that
always comes in time to heroines who sacrifice themselves and spare
the cows."
"It sounds strangely familiar," remarked Mr. Beresford, who was with
us, as usual. "Didn't a fellow turn up in the next chapter, a young
nephew of the old husband, who fell in love with the bride,
unconsciously and against his will? Wasn't she obliged to take him
into the conservatory, at the end of a week, and say, 'G-go! I
beseech you! for b-both our sakes!'? Didn't the noble fellow wring
her hand silently, and leave her looking like a broken lily on the-"
"How can you be so cynical, Mr. Beresford? It isn't like you!"
exclaimed Salemina. "For my part, I don't think the girl is either
his bride or his fiancee. Probably the mother of the family is
dead, and the father is bringing his eldest daughter to look at the
house: that's my idea of it."
This theory being just as plausible as ours, we did not discuss it,
hoping that something would happen to decide the matter in one way
or another.
"She is not married, I am sure," went on Salemina, leaning over the
back of my chair. "You notice that she hasn't given a glance at the
kitchen or the range, although they are the most important features
of the house. I think she may have just put her head inside the
dining-room door, but she certainly didn't give a moment to the
butler's pantry or the china closet. You will find that she won't
mount to the fifth floor to see how the servants are housed, - not
she, careless, pretty creature; she will go straight to the drawing-
room."
And so she did; and at the same instant a still younger and prettier
creature drove up in a hansom, and was out of it almost before the
admiring cabby could stop his horse or reach down for his fare. She
flew up the stairway and danced into the drawing-room like a young
whirlwind; flung open doors, pulled up blinds with a jerk, letting
in the sunlight everywhere, and tiptoed to and fro over the dusty
floors, holding up her muslin flounces daintily.
"This must be the daughter of his first marriage," I remarked.
"Who will not get on with the young stepmother," finished Mr.
Beresford.
"It is his youngest daughter," corrected Salemina, - "the youngest
daughter of his only wife, and the image of her deceased mother, who
was, in her time, the belle of Dublin."
She might well have been that, we all agreed; for this young beauty
was quite the Irish type, such black hair, grey-blue eyes, and
wonderful lashes, and such a merry, arch, winsome face, that one
loved her on the instant.
She was delighted with the place, and we did not wonder, for the
sunshine, streaming in at the back and side windows, showed us rooms
of noble proportions opening into one another. She admired the
balcony, although we thought it too public to be of any use save for
flowering plants; she was pleased with a huge French mirror over the
marble mantle; she liked the chandeliers, which were in the worst
possible taste; all this we could tell by her expressive gestures;
and she finally seized the old gentleman by the lapels of his coat
and danced him breathlessly from the fireplace to the windows and
back again, while the elder girl clapped her hands and laughed.
"Isn't she lovely?" sighed Francesca, a little covetously, although
she is something of a beauty herself.
