air, and with the green of its ivied battlements against the gold of
the distant wood, it seemed to lie in the languid repose of an eternal
summer. She hurried on down the other terrace into the Italian garden, a
quaint survival of past grandeur, passed the great orangery and numerous
conservatories, making a crystal hamlet in themselves--seeing everywhere
the same luxury. But it was a luxury that she fancied was redeemed
from the vulgarity of ostentation by the long custom of years and
generations, so unlike the millionaire palaces of her own land; and, in
her enthusiasm, she even fancied it was further sanctified by the grim
monastic founders who had once been content with bread and pulse in the
crumbling and dismantled refectory. In the plenitude of her feelings she
felt a slight recognition of some beneficent being who had rolled this
golden apple at her feet, and felt as if she really should like to "do
good" in her sphere.
It so chanced that, passing through a small gate in the park, she saw
walking, a little ahead of her, a young girl whom she at once recognized
as a Miss Amelyn, one of the guests of the evening before. Miss
Desborough remembered that she played the accompaniment of one or two
songs upon the piano, and had even executed a long solo during the
general conversation, without attention from the others, and apparently
with little irritation to herself, subsiding afterwards into an
armchair, quite on the fringe of other people's conversation. She had
been called "my dear" by one or two dowagers, and by her Christian name
by the earl, and had a way of impalpably melting out of sight at times.
These trifles led Miss Desborough to conclude that she was some kind of
dependent or poor relation. Here was an opportunity to begin her work of
"doing good." She quickened her pace and overtook Miss Amelyn.
"Let me walk with you," she said graciously.
The young English girl smiled assent, but looked her surprise at seeing
the cynosure of last night's eyes unattended.
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