She giggled and simpered significantly; and Ida, trying to force
herself to take some interest, fastened the collar for Isabel, and
gently and with much tact persuaded that inartistic young lady to
discard a huge crimson bow which she had stuck on her dress with
disastrous results. When, some little time after, Ida went down to the
drawing-room, she found that the visitor was like most of those who
came to Laburnum Villa, very worthy people, no doubt, but uninteresting
and commonplace. This Mr. George Powler was a heavy thick-set man,
approaching middle age, with the air of a prosperous merchant, and with
a somewhat shy and awkward manner; it seemed to Ida that he looked
rather bored as he sat on one of the stiff, uncomfortable chairs, with
the mother and daughter "engaging him in conversation," as they would
have called it. His shyness and awkwardness were intensified by the
entrance of the tall, graceful girl in her black dress, and he rose to
receive the introduction with a startled kind of nervousness, which was
reasonable enough; for the young women with whom he associated were not
dowered with Ida's very palpable grace and refinement.
Ida bowed to him, made some remark about the weather, and went over
with a book to the sofa with the broken spring--and promptly forgot his
existence. But her indifference was not reciprocated; the man was
painfully aware of her presence, and after endeavouring to carry on the
conversation with Isabel, grew absent-minded and incoherent, and
presently, as if he could not help himself, got up and, edging to the
sofa nervously, sat down and tried to talk.
Ida closed her book, and, as in duty bound, was civil to him, though
not perhaps so civil as she would have been to a man of her own age and
class; but Mr. George Powler, no doubt encouraged by her gentleness,
serenity, and perfect self-possession--qualities none too common in the
class to which he belonged--grew less nervous, and, to his own
amazement, found himself talking presently quite fluently to this
distinguished-looking young lady whose entrance of the drawing-room had
struck him with awe. With instinctive courteousness and kindness, Ida
had asked him some question about South Australia, and he was led to
talk of his life there, and to describe the country.
Ida found her thoughts wandering after a few minutes, and grew
absent-minded; but Mr. George Powler was launched, on his favourite
subject, was delighted with the condescension of the beautiful and
stately listener, and did not notice that she was scarcely listening;
did not notice also that Mrs. Heron was looking discontented and
sniffing peevishly, and that Isabel's face wore an expression of
jealousy and resentment. The fact was, that the poor man had quite
forgotten the other young woman--and the other young woman knew it.