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Whatever he had done was on personal grounds for the pleasure of a daughter and of an old friend. One morning, a week after Rosamund's return, a bow of crape was hanging upon the door-bell, Susan Bates was busy with Eliza Marshall up-stairs over certain sombre-hued apparel, and Roger was writing down a list of names and addresses for Theodore Brower upon the dining-room table.
That question, unuttered by her lips, was often in Rosamund's eyes as they drew near to the green wilds of Elis. Of course they had always meant to visit Olympia before they sailed away to England, but she knew very well that Dion had some special purpose in his mind, and that it was closely connected with his great love of her.
But music sung in this peculiar way was only a means by which the under part of a human being, that which has its existence deep down under layers and layers of the things which commonly appear and are known of, rose to the surface and announced itself. The Artists' Rifles and this! When the voice was silent, Dion went slowly upstairs. The door of Rosamund's little room was shut.
You don't know how nice it will feel after being naughty for so long." "I wonder if it will?" said Irene, beginning to dance along by Rosamund's side. The necessary apology was made to the cook, who received it with dubious surprise, the other servants standing near; but when they saw Irene glancing in their direction they darted off in more or less pretended terror.
Irene gave a wild laugh, which really sounded to poor Rosamund as scarcely human, and the next moment, with a whoop, she disappeared into the thick shrubbery of young trees near by. Her voice could then be heard calling, "Frosty! Frosty! come at once;" and then a thin and very emaciated woman was seen coming out of a summer-house just beyond. Meanwhile Lady Jane put her hand on Rosamund's arm.
We'll leave this matter for another time. Rosamund held him by the arm. 'Not too long! Both of them applied privately to Mrs. Wardour-Devereux for her opinion and counsel on the subject of the proposal to apologize to Dr. Shrapnel. She was against it with the earl, and became Rosamund's echo when with her.
Jollyman, and immediately after hearing it, Ralph Pomfret wrote a warm-hearted letter which made the recipient in Fulham chuckle with contentment. At Ashtead he enjoyed himself in the old way, gladdened by the pleasure with which his friends talked of Rosamund's marriage. Mrs. Pomfret took an opportunity of speaking to him apart, a bright smile on her good face.
Dion already felt certain that it never could, that it was his destiny to be husband rather than parent, the eternal lover rather than the eternal father. Rosamund's destiny was perhaps to be the eternal mother. She had never been exactly a lover. Perhaps her remarkable and beautiful purity of disposition had held her back from being that.
Less than a month after their first meeting, Franks won Rosamund's consent. He was frantic with exultation. Arriving with the news at ten o'clock one night, he shouted and maddened about Warburton's room until finally turned out at two in the morning. His circumstances being what they were, he could not hope for marriage yet awhile; he must work and wait.
It so happens that I was obliged to invade Rosamund's room last night, and I heard her reciting poetry in two voices, and then I heard her throw her voice into a distant part of the room, so that you might almost imagine that she was a ventriloquist. It was nearly eleven o'clock, and the doctor said he saw her walking along the high-road between four and five this morning.
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