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It was a German piece; wasn't it? It was just sweet!" And it was after such a prelude that Beatrix bowed in recognition of her cousin's introduction. Even as she bowed, there came a swift realization that she was facing no anticlimax. And yet the man before her was in no wise the typical musician.
She knew the exact state of the relation between Beatrix and Calyste; and she took great pains to draw her daughter to her own house, partly to soothe the wounds of her heart, but more especially to drag her away from the scene of her martyrdom. Sabine, however, maintained the deepest silence for a long time about her sorrows, fearing lest some one might meddle between herself and Calyste.
When, then, Harry Esmond came home to Castlewood for his last vacation he found his old pupil shot up into this capricious beauty; her brother, a handsome, high-spirited, brave lad, generous and frank and kind to everybody, save perhaps Beatrix, with whom he was perpetually at war, and not from his, but her, fault; adoring his mother, whose joy he was.
Water was deep, the Marigalante rode close in, and about and beyond her the Santa Clara, the Cordera, the San Juan, the Juana, another Nina, the Beatrix and many another fair name. They were beautiful, the ships on the gay water and about them the boats and the red men's canoes. We went to the Marigalante, I with the Admiral.
"It was brought for your use," replied the girl, demurely, "and I am gratified that it meets your commendation, my Lord." "And so also do you, my girl. What is your name and who are you?" "I am called Beatrix, my Lord, a serving-maid of this castle, the daughter of the woodman Wilhelm, and, alas! that it should be so, for the present your jailer."
"I was speaking of your cousin, not of Lorimer." Bobby stared at him in astonishment. "Really, Thayer, I can't see any cause that was of Beatrix's making," he returned haughtily. "It was mistaken judgment, to say the least, to have champagne in the house," Thayer answered. "Beatrix had nothing to do with that," Bobby blazed forth angrily.
Now as he walked, he noticed a dry ditch a grassy, and most inviting ditch; therefore Barnabas sat him down therein, leaning his back against the bank. "Beatrix!" said he, again, and thrusting his hands into his pockets he became aware of the "priceless wollum." Taking it out, he began turning its pages, idly enough, and eventually paused at one headed thus: *
Gilbert looked at her quickly, for no man likes to be told that he is dull, by any woman, old or young. "Am I? It seems to me that you do not put things very clearly." Beatrix was evidently not persuaded that he was in earnest, for she looked at him long and gravely. "We have not met for so long," she said, "that I am not quite sure of you."
Beatrix learned their symptoms far too quickly; she learned to know the depression and irritability which greeted her every effort to rouse and to please him.
Gasselin soon returned from one of the little farms scattered through the neighborhood, bearing a ladder which he had borrowed. By this time Beatrix had recovered a little strength.
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