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The cottage on Brook Green was even quieter than the Rectory at Angleford, where she had at least the companionship of other servants, and a large acquaintance in the village. Lettice was a kind and considerate mistress, but a careful one: she did not let the young country-bred girl go out after dark, and exercised an unusual amount of supervision over her doings.
But I shall see him again." A faint color mantled in her cheeks, and her eyes began to sparkle. "Beauty's a great power, I've heard," she said to herself, still looking at that fair image in the glass. "There's no knowing what I mayn't do if I meet the right person. And one meets nobody in Angleford. In London things may be different."
"I could settle down here with the greatest pleasure imaginable, under some circumstances," said Brooke Dalton, with a faint smile irradiating his fair, placid, well-featured countenance. "Do you think your sister would like to be so near her old home?" "I think she would consider it an advantage. She was always fond of Angleford.
And aloud she added: "Brooke, come and be introduced to Miss Campion. You used to know her at Angleford." "It seems a long time since I saw you," Mr. Dalton said, rather clumsily, as he took Lettice's hand into a very cordial clasp. "It was that day in December when your brother had just got his scholarship at Trinity." "Oh, yes; that day!
"Then I will read to you as long as you please, and write your letters, and if there were any game " "Ah, now, if by good luck you knew chess?" "I do know chess. I played my father nearly every evening at Angleford." "What a charming discovery! And that reminds me of something. Is there any reason why I should not write to Mr. Larmer?
He was a rather stout, blonde man, with an honest open countenance that she liked, although it expressed good nature rather than intellectual force. "Don't you remember him?" said Mrs. Hartley, in her ear. "He's a cousin of mine: Brooke Dalton, whose uncle used to live at Angleford. He has been wanting to meet you very much; he remembers you quite well, he tells me."
The rector of Angleford was never heard to utter soothing sentiments to the effect that "life may succeed in that it seems to fail," or that heaven was the place for those who had failed on earth. He did not believe it. Failure was terrible misfortune in his eyes: intellectual failure, greatest of all.
If it was easy to imagine that life at Angleford Manor might be very peaceful and luxurious, there could be no doubt that she would have to purchase her pleasure at the cost of a great deal of her independence.
She walked all the way from Westminster to Brook Green without once reflecting that she might save herself that fatigue by hailing a passing omnibus. Sydney Campion had done a year's hard and remunerative work since he paid his last visit to Angleford, and the result more than answered his expectations.
"He is devoted to her, that is plain enough; and I never thought he had it in him to care for anybody but himself. I met them last Easter at Dalton's place. They seemed to hit off extremely well." "Oh, she has improved him; there is no doubt about that. She is a very charming woman. What on earth does Dalton do with himself at Angleford?"
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