It was a tremendous rise
for one so young. He was at that time not more than twenty-nine years
old--but two years before this happened, when Halcyone was about
fifteen, he came again to the orchard house for a short Saturday to
Monday visit.
From the moment that she knew he was coming a strange stillness seemed
to fall upon the child. She had grown long-legged and was at the
fledgling stage when even a pretty girl sometimes looks plain, and she,
who had as yet no claim to beauty, was at her worst. She was quite aware
of it, with her intense soul-worship of all beautiful things. Some
unreasoned impulse made her keep away from her master during the first
day, but on the Sunday he summoned her, and, as once before, she came
and poured out the tea, but it was a cold and windy autumn afternoon,
and it was not laid out of doors. John Derringham had been for a walk,
and came in while she sat in a shadowy corner behind the table, teapot
in hand.
He was greatly changed, she thought, in the three years. He had grown a
beard! and looked considerably older, with his thin commanding figure
and arrogant head.
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