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She gloried in what she had been told or perceived of Delia Blanchflower's wilfulness, which seemed to her mother and her brother the Captain so monstrous. Only could one entirely trust anybody like Delia Blanchflower so prosperous and so good-looking?
Blanchflower's girl could work musical miracles. They clamoured until the singer came forward and sang them, "What's a the steer, Kimmer?" and she finished the song with triumphant archness.
Of course she had foreseen had feared the possibility of it, from that very first moment, almost when Winnington had written to her describing the terms of Bob Blanchflower's will, and his own acceptance of the guardianship. Yet why "feared"? Had she not for years desired few things so sincerely as to see Winnington happily married?
A passionate conviction, a fanatical affection, came to her aid, and her doubts were impatiently dismissed. Winnington found Miss Blanchflower's chaperon in a little sitting-room on the ground floor already appropriated to her, surrounded with a vast litter of letters and newspapers which she hastily pushed aside as he entered.
Lady Blanchflower's taste had been, in Delia's eyes, abominable; and her diamonds, tiaras, pendants and the rest had absolutely nothing to recommend them but their sheer brute cost. After a few glances at them, the girl had shut them up and forgotten them. But they were diamonds, and they must be worth some thousands.
Here were all her own girlish ornaments costly things which her father had given her at intervals during the three or four years since her coming out; here were her Mother's jewels, which Sir Robert had sent to his bankers after his wife's death, and had never seen again during his lifetime; and here were also a number of family jewels which had belonged to Delia's grandmother, and had remained, after Lady Blanchflower's death, in the custody of the family lawyers, till Delia, to whom they had been left by will, had appeared to claim them.
Delia turned to the lift, and they ascended. They were admitted, after much ringing. A bewildered maid looked at Delia, and the luggage behind her, as though she had never heard of her before. And the whole flat in the background seemed alive with voices and bustle. Winnington lost patience. "Tell this man, please, where to take Miss Blanchflower's luggage at once. And where is the drawing-room?"
And Winnington's sister nervously shook hands with the quietly smiling lady who followed in Miss Blanchflower's wake. Then while Delia sat down beside the hostess, and Winnington busied himself in supplying her with tea, her companion fell to the Rector's care.
A word exalted him, and he never felt a rebuff. Miss Blanchflower's mother was a commonplace woman, who looked with a business eye upon the odd courtship that was passing in her household day after day. One evening she said to her daughter, "Marion, had not you better settle matters one way or the other?" The girl needed no explanation of particulars.
Matheson in her quiet way, held strongly by all the decencies of life. It was merely a small gathering of some of the oldest friends and neighbours of Miss Blanchflower's family those who had stood nearest to her grandparents to welcome the orphan girl among them.
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