This Eneas is come to Paradise Out of the swolowe of Hell.
CHAUCER.--Legend of Dido.
The next day, Hugh was determined to find or make an opportunity of speaking to Euphra; and fortune seemed to favour him.--Or was it Euphra herself, in one or other of her inexplicable moods? At all events, she had that morning allowed the ladies and her uncle to go without her; and Hugh met her as he went to his study.
"May I speak to you for one moment?" said he, hurriedly, and with trembling lips.
Yes, certainly," she replied with a smile, and a glance in his face as of wonder as to what could trouble him so much. Then turning, and leading the way, she said:
"Come into my room."
He followed her. She turned and shut the door, which he had left open behind him. He almost knelt to her; but something held him back from that.
"Euphra," he said, "what have I done to offend you?""Offend me! Nothing."--This was uttered in a perfect tone of surprise.
"How is it that you avoid me as you do, and will not allow me one moment's speech with you? You are driving me to distraction.""Why, you foolish man!" she answered, half playfully, pressing the palms of her little hands together, and looking up in his face, "how can I? Don't you see how those two dear old ladies swallow me up in their faddles? Oh, dear? Oh, dear! I wish they would go. Then it would be all right again--wouldn't it?"But Hugh was not to be so easily satisfied.
"Before they came, ever since that night--"
"Hush-sh!" she interrupted, putting her finger on his lips, and looking hurriedly round her with an air of fright, of which he could hardly judge whether it was real or assumed--"hush!"Comforted wondrously by the hushing finger, Hugh would yet understand more.
"I am no baby, dear Euphra," he said, taking hold of the hand to which the finger belonged, and laying it on his mouth; "do not make one of me. There is some mystery in all this--at least something Ido not understand."
"I will tell you all about it one day. But, seriously, you must be careful how you behave to me; for if my uncle should, but for one moment, entertain a suspicion--good-bye to you--perhaps good-bye to Arnstead. All my influence with him comes from his thinking that Ilike him better than anybody else. So you must not make the poor old man jealous. By the bye," she went on--rapidly, as if she would turn the current of the conversation aside--"what a favourite you have grown with him! You should have heard him talk of you to the old ladies. I might well be jealous of you. There never was a tutor like his."Hugh's heart smote him that the praise of even this common man, proud of his own vanity, should be undeserved by him. He was troubled, too, at the flippancy with which Euphra spoke; yet not the less did he feel that he loved her passionately.
"I daresay," he replied, "he praised me as he would anything else that happened to be his. Isn't that old bay horse of his the best hack in the county?""You naughty man! Are you going to be satirical?""You claim that as your privilege, do you?"
"Worse and worse! I will not talk to you. But, seriously, for Imust go--bring your Italian to--to--" She hesitated.
"To the library--why not?" suggested Hugh.
"No-o," she answered, shaking her head, and looking quite solemn.
"Well, will you come to my study? Will that please you better?""Yes, I will," she answered, with a definitive tone. "Good-bye, now."She opened the door, and having looked out to see that no one was passing, told him to go. As he went, he felt as if the oaken floor were elastic beneath his tread.
It was sometime after the household had retired, however, before Euphra made her appearance at the door of his study. She seemed rather shy of entering, and hesitated, as if she felt she was doing something she ought not to do. But as soon as she had entered, and the door was shut, she appeared to recover herself quite; and they sat down at the table with their books. They could not get on very well with their reading, however. Hugh often forgot what he was about, in looking at her; and she seemed nowise inclined to avert his gazes, or check the growth of his admiration.
Rather abruptly, but apparently starting from some suggestion in the book, she said to him:
"By the bye, has Mr. Arnold ever said anything to you about the family jewels?""No," said Hugh. "Are there many?"
"Yes, a great many. Mr. Arnold is very proud of them, as well as of the portraits; so he treats them in the same way--keeps them locked up. Indeed he seldom allows them to see daylight, except it be as a mark of especial favour to some one.""I should like much to see them. I have always been curious about stones. They are wonderful, mysterious things to me."Euphra gave him a very peculiar, searching glance, as he spoke.
"Shall I," he continued, "give him a hint that I should like to see them?""By no means," answered Euphra, emphatically, "except he should refer to them himself. He is very jealous of his possessions--his family possessions, I mean. Poor old man! he has not much else to plume himself upon; has he?""He is kind to you, Euphra."
She looked at him as if she did not understand him.
"Yes. What then?"
"You ought not to be unkind to him."
"You odd creature! I am not unkind to him. I like him. But we are not getting on with our reading. What could have led me to talk about family-jewels? Oh! I see. What a strange thing the association of ideas is! There is not a very obvious connexion here; is there?""No. One cannot account for such things. The links in the chain of ideas are sometimes slender enough. Yet the slenderest is sufficient to enable the electric flash of thought to pass along the line."She seemed pondering for a moment.
"That strikes me as a fine simile," she said. "You ought to be a poet yourself."Hugh made no reply.
"I daresay you have hundreds of poems in that old desk, now?""I think they might be counted by tens."
"Do let me see them."
"You would not care for them."
"Wouldn't I, Hugh?"
"I will, on one condition--two conditions, I mean.""What are they?"
"One is, that you show me yours."
"Mine?"
"Yes."