but he was too wise to employ so coarse a method, which might raise indignation, or disgust, or despair in Rose's heart, but would have never brought her to his feet--as it will never bring any woman worth bringing.So he quietly and unobtrusively showed her that he could do without her; and she, poor fool, as she was meant to do, began forthwith to ask herself--why? What was the hidden treasure, what was the reserve force, which made him independent of her, while she could not say that she was independent of him? Had he a secret? how pleasant to know it! Some huge ambition? how pleasant to share in it! Some mysterious knowledge? how pleasant to learn it! Some capacity of love beyond the common? how delicious to have it all for her own! He must be greater, wiser, richer-hearted than she was, as well as better-born.Ah, if his wealth would but supply her poverty! And so, step by step, she was being led to sue in forma pauperis to the very man whom she had spurned when he sued in like form to her.That temptation of having some mysterious private treasure, of being the priestess of some hidden sanctuary, and being able to thank Heaven that she was not as other women are, was becoming fast too much for Rose, as it is too much for most.
For none knew better than the Spaniard how much more fond women are, by the very law of their sex, of worshipping than of being worshipped, and of obeying than of being obeyed; how their coyness, often their scorn, is but a mask to hide their consciousness of weakness; and a mask, too, of which they themselves will often be the first to tire.
And Rose was utterly tired of that same mask as she sat at table at Annery that day; and Don Guzman saw it in her uneasy and downcast looks, and thinking (conceited coxcomb) that she must be by now sufficiently punished, stole a glance at her now and then, and was not abashed when he saw that she dropped her eyes when they met his, because he saw her silence and abstraction increase, and something like a blush steal into her cheeks.So he pretended to be as much downcast and abstracted as she was, and went on with his glances, till he once found her, poor thing, looking at him to see if he was looking at her; and then he knew his prey was safe, and asked her, with his eyes, "Do you forgive me?" and saw her stop dead in her talk to her next neighbor, and falter, and drop her eyes, and raise them again after a minute in search of his, that he might repeat the pleasant question.And then what could she do but answer with all her face and every bend of her pretty neck, "And do you forgive me in turn?"Whereon Don Guzman broke out jubilant, like nightingale on bough, with story, and jest, and repartee; and became forthwith the soul of the whole company, and the most charming of all cavaliers.And poor Rose knew that she was the cause of his sudden change of mood, and blamed herself for what she had done, and shuddered and blushed at her own delight, and longed that the feast was over, that she might hurry home and hide herself alone with sweet fancies about a love the reality of which she felt she dared not face.
It was a beautiful sight, the great terrace at Annery that afternoon; with the smart dames in their gaudy dresses parading up and down in twos and threes before the stately house; or looking down upon the park, with the old oaks, and the deer, and the broad land-locked river spread out like a lake beneath, all bright in the glare of the midsummer sun; or listening obsequiously to the two great ladies who did the honors, Mrs.St.Leger the hostess, and her sister-in-law, fair Lady Grenville.All chatted, and laughed, and eyed each other's dresses, and gossiped about each other's husbands and servants: only Rose Salterne kept apart, and longed to get into a corner and laugh or cry, she knew not which.
"Our pretty Rose seems sad," said Lady Grenville, coming up to her.
"Cheer up, child! we want you to come and sing to us."Rose answered she knew not what, and obeyed mechanically.
She took the lute, and sat down on a bench beneath the house, while the rest grouped themselves round her.
"What shall I sing?"
"Let us have your old song, 'Earl Haldan's Daughter.'"Rose shrank from it.It was a loud and dashing ballad, which chimed in but little with her thoughts; and Frank had praised it too, in happier days long since gone by.She thought of him, and of others, and of her pride and carelessness; and the song seemed ominous to her: and yet for that very reason she dared not refuse to sing it, for fear of suspicion where no one suspected; and so she began per force--I.
"It was Earl Haldan's daughter, She look'd across the sea;She look'd across the water, And long and loud laugh'd she;'The locks of six princesses Must be my marriage-fee, So hey bonny boat, and ho bonny boat!
Who comes a wooing me?'
II.
"It was Earl Haldan's daughter, She walk'd along the sand;When she was aware of a knight so fair, Come sailing to the land.
His sails were all of velvet, His mast of beaten gold, And 'hey bonny boat, and ho bonny boat, Who saileth here so bold?'
III.
"'The locks of five princesses I won beyond the sea;I shore their golden tresses, To fringe a cloak for thee.
One handful yet is wanting, But one of all the tale;So hey bonny boat, and ho bonny boat!
Furl up thy velvet sail!'
IV.
"He leapt into the water, That rover young and bold;He gript Earl Haldan's daughter, He shore her locks of gold;'Go weep, go weep, proud maiden, The tale is full to-day.
Now hey bonny boat, and ho bonny boat!
Sail Westward-ho, and away!'"
As she ceased, a measured voice, with a foreign accent, thrilled through her.
