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But I must do what my father and mother want during the holidays. I do think it would be a splendid plan to ask little Hughie and Agnes to spend August at The Follies. I wonder what Frosty would say? Let us ask her after supper." Irene flung her arms round Rosamund's neck. "I don't quite promise to be good," she said; "but I'll do my best.
The father did not expect, perhaps did not even desire, that the little son should develop into a paragon, but he did desire for Rosamund's child the strong soul in the strong body, and the soft heart that was not a softy's heart. In that conversation Bruce Evelin had learnt a great deal about Dion.
The quail just shot he had in his hand. Another was stuffed into the large pocket of his jacket. He pulled it out and showed it to them, reading at a glance the admiration in Rosamund's eyes. Dion held out a hand to the boy's gun, but at this his manner changed, he clutched it tightly, moved a step or two back, and scowled. "He's a regular young savage," said Dion. "I like him as he is.
Latterly, with the return of her natural strength, she had shown herself incapable of hearing her husband speak of Nevil; nor was the earl tardy in taking the hint to spare the mother of his child allusions that vexed her. Now and then they occurred perforce. The presence of Cecilia exasperated Rosamund's peculiar sensitiveness.
That gift would surely be a weapon in his hands by means of which, or with the help of which, he would conquer the still unconquered mystery, Rosamund's whole heart. South Africa had done much for Dion. Out there in that wonderful atmosphere he had seen very clearly, his vision had pierced great distances; he saw clearly still, in England.
Bertha had turned to look at the river. Her face wore a puzzled gravity. "I'll try to think of it," she replied, walking slowly on. "He's a great mystery," were Rosamund's next words. "My uncle has no idea what he does, and Norbert, they tell me, is just as ignorant, or at all events, professes to be. Isn't it a queer thing?
He had mounted on winged feet to the region where no fear is. How his benign and eternal calm had sunk into Rosamund's soul that day in Elis. Far off she had seen through the frame of the Museum doorway a bit of the valley in which the Hermes had dwelt, and stretching across it a branch of wild olive.
He went very near to worshipping her, and when all was said, when he had cleared his mind of all dishonest bias, he still found overmuch to dislike in Oliver Tressilian, and the notion of his becoming Rosamund's husband was repellent. First of all there was that bad Tressilian blood notoriously bad, and never more flagrantly displayed than in the case of the late Ralph Tressilian.
She had no longer any lessons to employ her time; she had no longer Rosamund's wholesome influence Rosamund who was in Switzerland, and whose letters, delightful as they were, could not take the place of her constant presence. The day was a sultry one toward the end of August. Miss Frost, pale and dejected, was seated in one of the arbors.
Renee suffered herself to be probed here and there, and revealed nothing of the pain of the operation. She said to Nevil, in Rosamund's hearing: 'Have you the sense of honour acute in your country? Nevil inquired for the apropos. 'None, said she. Such pointed insolence disposed Rosamund to an irritable antagonism, without reminding her that she had given some cause for it.
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