One of Our Conquerors - World eBook Library

One of Our Conquerors
was his look. His duty compelled him, though he loves music.
He had the look of a Patriarch putting his handmaiden
away into the desert.’
Dorothea and Virginia, in spite of protests within, laughed
to streams. They recollected the look; she had given the portrait
of Mr. Stuart Rem in the act of repudiating secular song.
‘Victor conjured up a day when this darling Fredi, a child,
stood before a famous picture in the Brera, at Milan; when
he and her mother noticed the child’s very studious graveness;
and they had talked of it; he remarking, that she disapproved
of the Patriarch; and Nataly, that she was taken with
Hagar’s face.
He seemed surprised at her not having heard from Dudley.
‘How is that?’ said he.
‘Most probably because he has not written, papa.’
He paused after the cool reply. She had no mournful gaze
at all; but in the depths of the clear eyes he knew so well,
there was a coil of something animate, whatever it might be.
And twice she drew a heavy breath.
He mentioned it in London. Nataly telegraphed at night
for her girl to meet her next day at Dartrey’s hotel.
Their meeting was incomprehensibly joyless to the hearts
of each, though it was desired, and had long been desired,
and mother was mother, daughter daughter, without diminution
of love between them. They held hands, they kissed
and clasped, they showered their tender phrases with full
warm truth, and looked into eyes and surely saw one another.
But the heart of each was in a battle of its own, taking
wounds or crying for supports. Whether to speak to her girl
at once, despite the now vehement contrary counsel of Victor,
was Nataly’s deliberation, under the thought of the young
creature’s perplexity in not seeing her at the house of the
Duvidney ladies: while Nesta conjured in a flash the past
impressions of her mother’s shrinking distaste from any such
hectic themes as this which burdened and absorbed her; and
she was almost joining to it, through sympathy with any
thought or feeling of one in whom she had such pride; she
had the shudder of revulsion. Further, Nataly put on, rather
cravenly an air, of distress, or she half designingly permitted
her trouble to be seen, by way of affecting her girl’s recollection
when the confession was to come, that Nesta might
then understand her to have been restrained from speaking,
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