"Little Gaspar," said Lord Earle, laughing, "is six feet high now, mother. You forget how time flies; he is taller than Lionel, and a fine, handsome young fellow he is. He will be quite an acquisition."
Lord Earle was too much engrossed to remark the uneasiness his few words had caused. Lord Airlie winced at the idea of a rival a handsome man, and sentimental, too, as all those people educated in Germany are!
"I can not understand what possesses English people to send their sons abroad for education," he said to Beatrice--"and to Germany of all places in the world."
"Why should they not?" she asked.
"The people are so absurdly sentimental," he replied. "Whenever I see a man with long hair and dreamy eyes, I know he is a German."
"You are unjust," said Beatrice, as she left him to join Lillian.
"You are jealous," said Lionel, who had overheard the conversation. "Look out for a rival in the lists, my lord."
"I wish this tiresome ball were over," sighed Lord Airlie. "I shall have no chance of speaking while it is on the tapis."
But he soon forgot his chagrin. The formidable Gaspar appeared that very morning, and, although Lord Airlie could perceive that he was at once smitten with Beatrice's charms, he also saw that she paid no heed whatever to the new-comer; indeed, after a few words of courteous greeting, she returned to the point under discussion--what flowers would look best in the ball room.
"If we have flowers at all," she said, imperiously, "let them be a gorgeous mass of bloom--something worth looking at; not a few pale blossoms standing here and there like 'white sentinels'; let us have flowers full of life and fragrance. Lillian, you know what I mean; you remember Lady Manton's flowers--tier after tier of magnificent color."
"You like to do everything en reine, Beatrice," said Lady Helena, with a well-pleased smile.
"If you have not flowers sufficient, Miss Earle," said Lord Airlie, "I will send to Lynnton. My gardener considers himself a past master of his art."
"My dear Lord Airlie," said Lady Earle, "we have flowers in profusion. You have not been through the conservatories. It would while away the morning pleasantly for you all. Beatrice, select what flowers you will, and have them arranged as you like."
"See," said the triumphant beauty, "what a grand thing a strong will is! Imagine papa's saying he thought thirty or forty plants in full flower would be sufficient! We will surprise him. If the gardener loses his reason, as Lady Earle seems to think probable, he must be taken care of."
Lord Airlie loved Beatrice best in such moods; imperious and piquant, melting suddenly into little gleams of tenderness, then taking refuge in icy coldness and sunny laughter. Beautiful, dazzling, capricious, changing almost every minute, yet charming as she changed, he would not have bartered one of her proudest smiles or least words for anything on earth.
He never forgot that morning spent among the flowers. It was a glimpse of elysium to him. The way in which Beatrice contrived to do as she liked amused him; her face looked fairer than ever among the blooming flowers.
"There is the bell for lunch," she said at last. "We have been here nearly three hours."
"Most of your attendants look slightly deranged," said Lionel.
"I am sure I saw poor Donald weeping over his favorite plants.
He told me confidentially they would be fit for nothing after the heat of the ball room."
"I shall invent some means of consolation for him," she replied.
"I like dancing among the bright flowers. Why should we not have everything gay and bright and beautiful, if we can?"
"Why not?" said Lionel, gravely. "Ah, Miss Earle, why are we not always young and beautiful and happy? Why must flowers die, beauty fade, love grow old? Ask a philosopher--do not ask me.
I know the answer, but let some one else give it to you."
"Philosophy does not interest me at present," she said. "I like flowers, music, and dancing better. I hope I shall never tire of them; sometimes--but that is only when I am serious or tired--I feel that I shall never live to grow old. I can not imagine my eyes dim or my hair gray. I can not imagine my heart beating slowly. I can not realize a day when the warmth and beauty of life will have changed into cold and dullness."
Even as she spoke a gentle arm stole round her, a fair, spirituelle face, eyes full of clear, saintly light looked into hers, and a soft voice whispered to her of something not earthly, not of flowers and music, not of life and gayety, something far beyond these, and the proud eyes for a moment grew dim with tears.
"Lily," she said, "I am not so good as you, but I will endeavor to be. Let me enjoy myself first, just for a short time; I will be good, dear."
Her mood changed then, and Lord Airlie thought her more entrancing than ever.
"That is the kind of wife I want," thought Lionel Dacre to himself, looking at Lillian--"some one to guide me, to teach me.
Ah, if women only understood their mission! That girl looked as I can imagine only guardian angels look--I wish she would be mine."
Lord Airlie left the conservatory, with its thousand flowers, more in love than ever.
He would wait, he said to himself, until the ball was over; then he would ask Beatrice Earle to be his wife. If she refused him, he would go far away where no one knew him; if she accepted him, he would be her devoted slave. She should be a queen, and he would be her knight.
Ah! What thanks would he return to Heaven if so great a blessing should be his.
