One of Our Conquerors - World eBook Library

One of Our Conquerors
breakfast, she plants herself in the middle of the room, and
strikes her attitude for song, and positively, almost with the
Sanfredini’s voice—illusion of it, you know,—trills us out
more than I could have believed credible to be recollected by
a child. But I’ve told you the story. We called her Fredi from
that day. I sent the diva, with excuses and compliments, a
nuptial present-necklace, Roman goldwork, locket-pendant,
containing sunny curl, and below a fine pearl; really pretty;
telling her our grounds for the liberty. She replied, accepting
the responsible office; touching letter—we found it so; framed
in Fredi’s room, under her godmother’s photograph. Fredi
has another heroine now, though she worships her old one
still; she never abandons her old ones. You’ve heard the story
over and over!’
Mr. Fenellan nodded; he had a tenderness for the garrulity
of Old Veuve, and for the damsel. Chatter on that subject
ran pleasantly with their entertainment.
Mr. Radnor meanwhile scribbled, and despatched a strip
of his Note-book, bearing a scrawl of orders, to his office.
He was now fully himself, benevolent, combative, gay, alert
for amusement or the probeing of schemes to the quick,
weighing the good and the bad in them with his fine touch
on proportion.
‘City dead flat? A monotonous key; but it’s about the same
as fetching a breath after a run; only, true, it lasts too long—
not healthy! Skepsey will bring me my letters. I was down in
the country early this morning, looking over the house, with
Taplow, my architect; and he speaks fairly well of the contractors.
Yes, down at Lakelands; and saw my first lemon
butterfly in a dell of sunshine, out of the wind, and had half
a mind to catch it for Fredi,—and should have caught it
myself, if I had! The truth is, we three are country born and
bred; we pine in London. Good for a season; you know my
old feeling. They are to learn the secret of Lakelands to-morrow.
It ‘s great fun; they think I don’t see they’ve had their
suspicion for some time. You said—somebody said—”the
eye of a needle for what they let slip of their secrets, and the
point of it for penetrating yours”:—women. But no; my dear
souls didn’t prick and bother. And they dealt with a man in
armour. I carry them down to Lakelands to-morrow, if the
City’s flat.’
‘Keeping a secret’s the lid on a boiling pot with you,’ Mr.
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