echo of strange footsteps on the flagged halls of the house.

50

 

51In the middle of some grand prophecy for Edgar’s future, the parlour door was opened, and Lord Exham entered. He came forward with something of his boyhood’s enthusiasm, and took Mrs. Atheling’s hands, and said a few words of pleasant greeting, indistinctly heard in the fluttering gladness of Mrs. Atheling’s reception. Then he turned to Kate. She had risen, but she held her work in her left hand. He took it from her, and laid it on her work-box, and then clasped both her hands in his. The firm, lingering pressure had its own eloquence. In matters of love, they who are to understand, do understand; and no interpreter is needed.

51

The conversation then became general and full of interest; but from Oxford, and France, and Italy, it quickly drifted–as all conversation did in those days–to Reform. And Mrs. Atheling could not keep the news that had come to her that day. She magnified Edgar with a sweet motherly vanity that was delightful, and to which Piers listened with pleasure; for the listening gave him opportunity to watch Kate’s eloquent face, and to flash his sympathy into it. He thought her marvellously beautiful. Her shining hair, her rich colouring, and her large gray eyes were admirably emphasised by the homely sweetness of her dress. After the lavish proportions, and gaily attired women of Italy, nothing could have been more enchanting to Piers Exham than Kate’s subdued, gray-eyed loveliness, clad in gray garments. The charming background of her picturesque home added to this effect; and this background he saw and realised; but she had also a moral background 52 of purity and absolute sincerity which he did not see, but which he undoubtedly felt.

52

While Piers was experiencing this revelation of womanhood, it was not likely Kate was without impressions. In his early youth, Exham had a slight resemblance to Lord Byron; and he had been vain of the likeness, and accentuated it by adopting the open collar, loose tie, and other peculiarities of the poetic nobleman. Kate was glad to see this servile imitation had been discarded. Exham was now emphatically individual. He was not above medium height; but his figure was good, and his manner gentle and courteous, as the manner of all superior men is. Grave and high-bred, he had also much of the melancholy, mythical air of an English nobleman, conscious of long antecedents, and dwelling in the seclusion 

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