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Granville, it is true, found fault with the taste displayed in the composition of the button-holes, and one morning flatly refused one that had been made for him expressly; but the fact is, Granville was of rather small account in the house just now. He was busy, certainly, and was seen very little down at Twickenham; but he might have been seen more his temporary occupation of a back-seat was in a great measure voluntary. Nor was he really malicious at this time. It is true that he spoke of the leopards spots, and used other phrases equally ominous but less hackneyed; for the most part, however, he made these
observations to himself. He could have found nowhere a more appreciative and sympathetic audience. But, though he looked on sardonically enough at the Brides conquests, Granville did not lay himself out to hinder them. This should be clearly understood. The fellow was not a full-blown Mephistopheles.
And the happy pair were indeed happy. But for an occasional wistful, far-away look such as will come sometimes to every exile, for all the pleasures and palaces of new worlds Gladys seemed to everybody to be gay and contented as the midsummer days were long. As for Alfred, he considered the sum of his earthly happiness complete. Even the ideal farm (which his solicitors were doing their best to find for him) in the ideal sleepy hollow (which he meant to do his best to wake up, by the introduction of vigorous Bush methods) when purchased, stocked, furnished, inhabited, and in full swing could not, he felt, add much to his present happiness. Poor Alfred! He was laying out the future on idyllic lines. But, meanwhile, the present was full of happy days; and that was well.
There was one evening that Alfred did not soon forget.
It was the last Sunday in June. There had been a thunderstorm early in the afternoon and a smart shower. The evening air was a long, cool, delicious draught, flavoured with the exquisite fragrance of dripping leaves and petals; and this, and the sound of the church bells, and the sunlight glittering upon the wet lanes, came back to Alfred afterwards as often as he remembered the conversation which made the walk to the old church all too short. Alfred walked with his mother; Gladys, some little distance ahead, with the Judge.
I think Gladys likes England a little better now, observed Lady Bligh.
And cant England say the same thing of Gladys? cried Alfred. Dont answer the question its idiotic. But oh, mother, Im a fool with very joy!
Because Gladys has won all our hearts, dear?
Yes; and I really think she has. You have all been so good, so patient and forgiving. Dont stop me, mother. If you had been different, I know I never should have allowed that you had anything to forgive; but now that you are like this, I own that there was much. Look at her now with the Judge; he has given her his arm. Now think of the beginning between these two!
Why think of that? We have all forgotten it. You must forget it too.
I think of it, said Alfred, because it is all over; because you have civilised my wild darling; and because I like to realise this. But, upon my soul, if you had seen her life out there; if you knew her father (she doesnt remember her mother); if you had any idea of the work she did on that run; you would simply be amazed as I am, now that I look back upon it at what your tenderness has done. But do you know, mother, what the dear girl says? I had nearly forgotten to tell you.
One would have counted upon a joke, and possibly a good one; for Alfred stopped to chuckle before coming out with it; though, certainly Alfred was not the best judge of jokes.
She says that if ever she makes you feel regularly ashamed of her again, she may be considered hopeless; and though you forgive her, shell never forgive herself! Thats rather rich, eh?
Lady Bligh failed to see it in that light. On the contrary, for one moment she seemed both surprised and pained.
Perhaps, Alfred, she said, thoughtfully, she still feels the restraint, and hates our conventionalities. I often think she must; I sometimes think she does.
Not she! Not a bit of it! Shes as safe as the Bank, and as happy as they make em, I know her!
Poor Alfred!
Perhaps, said Lady Bligh again; but there may be a constant effort which we cannot see; and I have once or twice caught a look in her eyes but let that pass. I may be wrong; only I think it has been rather slow for her lately. She must have more amusement. There are one or two amusing things coming on presently. But just now I should like to think of something quite fresh to interest her. My dear boy! you are whistling! in the churchyard!
In fact, Alfred was foolish with joy, as he himself had said. He could not control his spirits long when speaking of Gladys, and hearing her well spoken of by the others, and marvelling at the change that a few days had brought about. It was a case of either laughing or crying with him then; and the tears never got a chance.
But, in the solemn twilight of the church; standing, kneeling, sitting by his wifes side; sharing her book; listening with her to the consummate language of the Common Prayer; watching with her the round stained window fail and fade against the eastern sky then, indeed, the boisterous, boyish spirits of