Good-night; I feel as if I had known you for
five or six years. I'll ring for somebody to show you down.'
'Never mind,' said Stephen, 'I can find the way.' And he went
downstairs, thinking of the delightful freedom of manner in the
remoter counties in comparison with the reserve of London.
'I forgot to tell you that my father was rather deaf,' said
Elfride anxiously, when Stephen entered the little drawing-room.
'Never mind; I know all about it, and we are great friends,' the
man of business replied enthusiastically. 'And, Miss Swancourt,
will you kindly sing to me?'
To Miss Swancourt this request seemed, what in fact it was,
exceptionally point-blank; though she guessed that her father had
some hand in framing it, knowing, rather to her cost, of his
unceremonious way of utilizing her for the benefit of dull
sojourners. At the same time, as Mr. Smith's manner was too frank
to provoke criticism, and his age too little to inspire fear, she
was ready--not to say pleased--to accede. Selecting from the
canterbury some old family ditties, that in years gone by had been
played and sung by her mother, Elfride sat down to the pianoforte,
and began, "Twas on the evening of a winter's day,' in a pretty
contralto voice.
'Do you like that old thing, Mr. Smith?' she said at the end.
'Yes, I do much,' said Stephen--words he would have uttered, and
sincerely, to anything on earth, from glee to requiem, that she
might have chosen.
Pages:
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40