The morning broke with that exquisite clearness which distinguishes the
lakes when a fine day follows a wet one; and, despite her anxiety on
her father's account, Ida, as she went down-stairs, was conscious of
that sense of happiness which comes from anticipation. She made her
morning tour of inspection of the stables and the dairy, and ordered
the big chestnut to be saddled directly after breakfast.
When her father came down she was relieved to find that he seemed to be
in his usual health; and in answer to her question whether he had slept
well, he replied in the affirmative, and was mildly surprised that she
should enquire. Directly he had gone off to the library she ran
upstairs to put on her habit.
For the first time she was struck by its shabbiness; she had never
given a thought to it before. Her evening-dresses, though plain and
inexpensive, were always dainty and fresh, but she wore her habit as
long as it would hold together, and cared nothing for the fact that her
hat was stained by the rain: they were her "working clothes," and
strictly considered as such. But this morning she surveyed the skirt
ruefully, and thought of the trim and apparently always new habits
which the Bannerdale girls wore; and she brushed it with a care which
it had never yet received. As a rule she wore a black scarf, or none at
all; but as she looked at herself in the glass she was not satisfied,
and she found a scarlet tie which she had bought in a fit of
extravagance, and put it on. The touch of colour heightened the beauty
of her clear ivory face and brightened up the old habit; but she looked
at herself in the glass with something like shamefacedness: why was she
so anxious about her appearance this morning of all the mornings? For
an instant she was tempted to snatch off the tie; but in the end she
let it remain; and she brushed the soft tendrils of her hair at her
forehead with unusual care before she fastened on her hat.
Her father was walking up and down the terrace slowly as she came out,
and he raised his head and looked at her absently.
"I shall probably ride into Bryndermere, father," she said. "Shall I
post your letters? I know you will be anxious for that one to the
book-sellers to go," she added, with a smile.
His eyes dropped and he seemed disconcerted for a minute, then he said: "No, no; I'll send it by Jason; I've not written it yet;" and he turned
away from her and resumed his pacing to and fro.