So the Strangeways sisters climbed up, nothing loth; Lady
Tyrrell sat with her father, the centre of a throng of gentlemen,
who welcomed her to the ground where she used to be a reigning
belle; and the Colonel's wife, Mrs. Ross, came to sit with Lady
Rosamond. The whole was perfect enjoyment to the last. She felt it
a delightful taste of her merry old Bohemian days to sit in the
clear September sunshine, exhilarated by the brilliancy and life
around, laughing with her own little court of officers, exclaiming
at every droll episode, holding her breath with the thrill of
universal expectation and excitement, in the wonderful hush of the
multitude as the thud of the hoofs and rush in the wind was heard
coming nearer, straining her eyes as the glossy creatures and their
gay riders flashed past, and setting her whole heart for the moment
on the one she was told to care for.
Raymond, seeing his ladies well provided for, gave up his reins to
the coachman, and started in quest of a friend from the other side
of the county. About an hour later, when luncheon was in full
progress, and Rosamond was, by Cecil's languor, driven into doing
the honours, with her most sunshiny drollery and mirth, Raymond's
hand was on the carriage door, and he asked in haste, "Can you spare
me a glass of champagne? Have you a scent-bottle?"
"An accident?"
"Yes, no, not exactly.
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