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Updated: June 26, 2025
Barold suddenly appeared to be attracted by some figure he discovered in the garden appertaining to that modest structure. "By Jove!" he exclaimed, in an undertone, "there is Miss Octavia." For the moment he was almost roused to a display of interest. A faint smile lighted his face, and his cold, handsome eyes slightly brightened. Lady Theobald sat bolt upright.
She was persuaded that she had never seen Lucia look as she looked this afternoon. She had a brighter color in her cheeks than usual, her pretty figure seemed more erect, her eyes had a spirit in them which was quite new. She had chatted and laughed gayly with Francis Barold, as she approached the house; and after his departure she moved to and fro with a freedom not habitual to her.
The ladies had all just risen from their seats with a gentle rustle, and Lady Theobald was moving forward to marshal her procession into the dining-room, when Dobson appeared at the door again. "Mr. Barold, my lady," he said, "and Mr. Burmistone." Everybody glanced first at the door, and then at Lady Theobald. Mr.
"You look as if you had heard ill news, old fellow," he said. "What's up?" "Oh, nothing!" he was answered sardonically; "nothing whatever unless that I have been rather snubbed by a young lady from Nevada." "Ah!" with great seriousness: "that's rather cool, isn't it?" "It's her little way," said Barold. "It seems to be one of the customs of Nevada." In fact, he was very savage indeed.
Barold, and divers others too numerous to mention, saw him standing at Octavia's side, evidently with no intention of leaving it. Not long after this Francis Barold found his way to Miss Belinda, who was very busy and rather nervous. "Your niece is evidently enjoying herself," he remarked. "Octavia is most happy to-day," answered Miss Belinda. "Her father will reach Slowbridge this evening.
Then, without giving him time to reply, she raised her eyes to his face, and plunged into the subject of the croquet again, pursuing it until the final moment of his exit and departure, which was when Mrs. Burnham and Miss Pilcher had been scandalized at the easy freedom of her adieus. When Mr. Francis Barold called to pay his respects to Lady Theobald, after partaking of her hospitality, Mr.
Burnham, that she had been betrayed into forgetting her charge. She could scarcely believe her ears. She went to the open window, and looked out, and then turned paler than before. "Octavia, my dear," she said faintly. "Francis!" said Lady Theobald, over her shoulder. Mr. Francis Barold turned a rather bored countenance toward them; but it was evidently not Octavia who had bored him.
The evening being warm, the French windows had been left open; and, in passing one of them, she stopped a moment to look out at the brightly moonlit grounds. Barold, who was with her, paused too. "Looks rather nice, doesn't it?" he said. "Yes," she replied. "Suppose we go out on the terrace." He laughed in an amused fashion she did not understand. "Suppose we do," he said.
She was permitted to spend the afternoon frequently with Octavia; and on several occasions that young lady and Miss Bassett were invited to partake of tea at Oldclough in company with no other guest than Francis Barold. "I don't know what it means, and I think it must mean something," said Lucia to Octavia; "but it is very pleasant. I never was allowed to be so intimate with any one before."
Barold flashed a little, and took his cigar from his mouth to knock off the ashes. "A man is not necessarily a snob," he said, "because he is cool enough not to lose his head where a woman is concerned. You can't marry a woman who will make mistakes, and attract universal attention by her conduct." "Has it struck you that Octavia Bassett would?" inquired Burmistone.
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