'
'I have no doubt she is right. He must have been ill.'
Mr. Wyvern, in contrast with his habit, was paying marked attention;
he leaned forward, with a hand on each knee. In the meanwhile the
preparations for tea had progressed, and as Mrs. Waltham rose at the
sight of the teapot being brought in, her daughter entered the room.
Adela was taller by half a head than her brother; she was slim and
graceful. The air had made her face bloom, and the smile which was
added as she drew near to the vicar enhanced the charm of a
countenance at all times charming. She was not less than ladylike in
self-possession, but Mr. Wyvern's towering sableness clearly awed
her a little. For an instant her eyes drooped, but at once she
raised them and met the severe gaze with unflinching orbs. Releasing
her hand, Mr. Wyvern performed a singular little ceremony: he laid
his right palm very gently on her nutbrown hair, and his lips moved.
At the same time he all but smiled.
Alfred's face was a delightful study the while; it said so clearly,
'Confound the parson's impudence!' Mrs. Waltham, on the other hand,
looked pleased as she rustled to her place at the tea-tray.
'So Mr. Eldon has come?' she said, glancing at Adela. 'Alfred says
he looks ill.'
'Mother,' interposed the young man, 'pray be accurate.
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