It being a fine evening Louis went out of the house to enjoy his cigar in
the shrubbery. On reaching his favourite seat he found he had left his
cigar-case behind him; he immediately returned for it. When he
approached the window by which he had emerged he saw Swithin St. Cleeve
standing there in the dusk, talking to Viviette inside.
St. Cleeve's back was towards Louis, but, whether at a signal from her or
by accident, he quickly turned and recognized Glanville; whereupon
raising his hat to Lady Constantine the young man passed along the
terrace-walk and out by the churchyard door.
Louis rejoined his sister. 'I didn't know you allowed your lawn to be a
public thoroughfare for the parish,' he said.
'I am not exclusive, especially since I have been so poor,' replied she.
'Then do you let everybody pass this way, or only that illustrious youth
because he is so good-looking?' 'I have no strict rule in the case. Mr. St. Cleeve is an acquaintance of mine, and he can certainly come here if he chooses.' Her colour rose
somewhat, and she spoke warmly.
Louis was too cautious a bird to reveal to her what had suddenly dawned
upon his mind--that his sister, in common with the (to his thinking)
unhappy Tabitha Lark, had been foolish enough to get interested in this
phenomenon of the parish, this scientific Adonis. But he resolved to
cure at once her tender feeling, if it existed, by letting out a secret
which would inflame her dignity against the weakness.
'A good-looking young man,' he said, with his eyes where Swithin had
vanished. 'But not so good as he looks. In fact a regular young
sinner.' 'What do you mean?' 'Oh, only a little feature I discovered in St. Cleeve's history. But I
suppose he has a right to sow his wild oats as well as other young men.' 'Tell me what you allude to,--do, Louis.' 'It is hardly fit that I should. However, the case is amusing enough.
I was sitting in the arbour to-day, and was an unwilling listener to the
oddest interview I ever heard of. Our friend the Bishop discovered, when
we visited the observatory last night, that our astronomer was not alone
in his seclusion. A lady shared his romantic cabin with him; and finding
this, the Bishop naturally enough felt that the ordinance of confirmation
had been profaned. So his lordship sent for Master Swithin this morning,
and meeting him in the churchyard read him such an excommunicating
lecture as I warrant he won't forget in his lifetime. Ha-ha-ha! 'Twas
very good,--very.' He watched her face narrowly while he spoke with such seeming
carelessness. Instead of the agitation of jealousy that he had expected
to be aroused by this hint of another woman in the case, there was a
curious expression, more like embarrassment than anything else which
might have been fairly attributed to the subject. 'Can it be that I am
mistaken?' he asked himself.