"Yes, my lady," Miss Silver said, docilely; and my lady did not see the smile that faded with the words.
She understood it perfectly. Sir Everard had broken from the maternal apron-string, deserted the standard of Lady Louise, and gone over to "bold, odious" Miss Hunsden.
Sybilla dutifully delivered the message the first time she met the baronet. A groom was holding Sir Galahad, and his master was just vaulting into the saddle. He turned away from the dark face and sweet voice.
"It is impossible this morning," he said. "Tell Lady Kingsland I shall meet her at dinner."
He rode away as he spoke, with the sudden consciousness that it was the first time he and that devoted mother had ever clashed. Thinking of her, he thought of her favorite.
"She wants to read me a tirade, I suppose, about her pet, Lady Louise," he said to himself. "They would badger me into marrying her if they could. I never cared two straws for the daughter of Earl Carteret; she is frightfully passée, and she's three years older than I am. I am glad I did not commit myself to please my mother."
Sir Everard reached Hunsden Hall in time for luncheon. The old place looked deserted and ruined. The half-pay Indian officer's poverty was visible everywhere--in the time-worn furniture, the neglected grounds, the empty stables, and the meager staff of old-time servants.
"Captain Hunsden is so poor that he will be glad to marry his daughter to the first rich man who asks her. The Hunsden estate is strictly entailed to the next male heir; he has only his pay, and she will be left literally a beggar at his death."
His eyes flashed triumphantly at the thought. Harrie Hunsden stood in the sunshine on the lawn, with half a score of dogs, big and little, bouncing around her, more lovely, it seemed to the infatuated young baronet, in her simple home-dress, than ever. No trace of yesterday's fatiguing hunt, or last night's fatiguing dancing, was visible in that radiant face.
But just at that instant Captain Hunsden advanced to meet him, with Lord Ernest Strathmore by his side.
"What brings that idiot here?" Sir Everard thought. "How absurdly early he must have ridden over!"
He turned to Miss Hunsden and uttered the polite common-place proper for the occasion.
"I told you I never was fatigued," the young lady said, playing with her dogs, and sublimely at her ease. "I am ready for a second hunt to-day, and a ball to-night, and a picnic the day after. I should have been a boy. It's perfectly absurd, my being a ridiculous girl, when I feel as if I could lead a forlorn hope, or, like Alexander, conquer a world. Come to luncheon."