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In the midst of it Dion remembered Dumeny, and could not help saying: "But that type" they had been speaking of what he considered to be Rosamund's type of man, once described by her as "a strong soul in a strong body, and a soft heart but not a softy's heart" "is almost the direct opposite of the artistic type of man, isn't it?" Her large eyes looked "Well?" at him, but she said nothing.
Lord Romfrey pronounced these words with a sober emphasis that struck the humour of it sharply into Rosamund's heart, through some contrast it presented between Nevil's aim at the world and hit of a man: the immense deal thought of it by the earl, and the very little that Nevil would think of it the great domestic achievement to be boasted of by an enthusiastic devotee of politics!
But even Canon Wilton had utterly failed to be of any real use. Perhaps he had known Rosamund too well. Till now Mrs. Clarke was the one human being who had succeeded in making a definite impression on Dion since Robin's death and Rosamund's fearful reception of the news of it.
But Saturday at the Bretts', with all its bliss, came to an end, and the girls returned to beautiful Sunnyside and to the life of the new and rather strangely managed school. Sunday was a long and dreary day, at least in Rosamund's eyes, and but for an incident which occurred immediately after morning service, she scarcely knew how she could have got through it. Mr.
And the nicest people. You've heard me speak of Miss Anderton, of Bath. She is Mrs. Capron married half a year ago. And they're just going to Egypt for a year, and what do you think? I'm going with them." Rosamund's voice sunk and faltered. She stood holding Bertha's hands, and gazing into her face with eyes which grew large as if in a distressful appeal. "To Egypt?" "Yes.
"Well, coming to our dinner wouldn't have prevented that only eight till ten-thirty." "I don't think, Guy, you at all understand Rosamund's feeling for Robin," said Dion, with a sort of dry steadiness. "Probably not, being a man." "Perhaps a father can understand better." "Better? It seems to me one either does understand a thing or one doesn't understand it."
Jennie will meet us there." Jennie was Rosamund's accompanist, a clever Irish girl who often came to Little Market Street to go through things with Rosamund. "It will be rather delightful singing to people again," she added in a joyous voice as they got into the hired carriage. "I hope I've really improved." "How you love a thing for itself!" he said, as they drove off.
"I've got a sister called Rosamund; now, isn't that curious?" cried Timmy. He had already seized the scissors, and was engaged in cutting out some quaint, fantastic looking little figures. After the others had left the room, Rosamund's mother turned to Betty. "I never saw such a nice, kind, young gentleman!" she exclaimed. "He fair took my breath away a regular little doctor he'd make."
Beauchamp! And then he walked firmly out of Romfrey oakwoods, and, at a mile's distance from her, related to his countess Rosamund that the burial was over without much silly ceremony, and that she needed to know nothing of it whatever. Rosamund's face awoke him. It was the face of a chalk-quarry, featureless, hollowed, appalling. The hour was no later than three in the morning.
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