They were not man and
woman, but English gentleman and lady, and, from one point of view,
very brilliant specimens of their kind.
At Crewe both alighted, Arnold to stretch his legs for a moment.
"By the bye," he said, as Miss Derwent, having seen to her luggage,
was bidding him farewell, "I'm sorry to hear that young Otway has
been very ill."
"Ill?--I had no knowledge of it. In Russia?"
"Yes. My father was speaking of it yesterday. He had heard it from
his friend, old Mr. Otway. A fever of some kind. He's all right
again, I believe."
"We have heard nothing of it. There's your whistle. Good-bye!"
Jacks leapt into his train, waved a hand from the window, and was
whirled away.
For the rest of her journey, Irene seemed occupied with an
alternation of grave and amusing thoughts. At moments she looked
seriously troubled. This passed, and the arrival found her bright as
ever; the pink of modern maidenhood, fancy free.
The relatives she was visiting were two elderly ladies, cousins of
her mother; representatives of a family native to this locality for
hundreds of years. One of the two had been married, but husband and
child were long since dead; the other, devoted to sisterly
affection, had shared in the brief happiness of the wife and
remained the solace of the widow's latter years. They were in
circumstances of simple security, living as honoured gentlewomen,
without display as without embarrassment; fulfiling cheerfully the
natural duties of their position, but seeking no influence beyond
the homely limits; their life a humanising example, a centre of
charity and peace.
Pages:
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134