Phantom Fortune, a Novel. M. E. Braddon
Larch and mountain ash, and Lawsonian cyprus—deodara and magnolia, arbutus, and silver broom, acacia and lilac, flourished here in that rich beauty which made every cottage garden in the happy district a little paradise; and here in a semi-circular recess at one end of the lawn were rustic chairs and tables and an umbrella tent. This was Lady Lesbia's chosen retreat on summer mornings, and a favourite place for afternoon tea.
Mr. Hammond followed the two ladies to their bower.
'This is to be my last morning,' he said, looking at Lesbia. 'Will you think me a great bore if I spend it with you?'
'We shall think it very nice of you,' answered Lesbia, without a vestige of emotion; 'especially if you will read to us.'
'I will do any thing to make myself useful. What shall I read?'
'Anything you like. What do you say to Tennyson?'
'That he is a noble poet, a teacher of all good; but too philosophical for my present mood. May I read you some of Heine's ballads, those songs which you sing so exquisitely, or rather some you do not sing, and which will be fresher to you. My German is far from perfect, but I am told it is passable, and Fräulein Müller can throw her scissors at me when my accent is too dreadful.'
'You speak German beautifully,' said Fräulein. 'I wonder where you learned it?'
'I have been a good deal in Germany, and I had a Hanoverian valet who was quite a gentleman, and spoke admirably. I think I learned more from him than from grammars or dictionaries. I'll go and fetch Heine.'
'What a very agreeable person Mr. Hammond is,' said Fräulein, when he was gone. 'We shall quite miss him.'
'Yes, I have no doubt we shall miss him,' said Lesbia, again without the faintest emotion.
The governess began to think that the ordeal of an agreeable young man's presence at Fellside had been passed in safety, and that her pupil was unscathed. She had kept a close watch on the two, as in duty bound. She knew that Hammond was in love with Lesbia; but she thought Lesbia was heart-whole.
Mr. Hammond came back with a shabby little book in his hand and established himself comfortably in one of the two Beaconsfield chairs.
He opened his book at that group of short poems called Heimkehr, and read here and there, as fancy led him. Sometimes the strain was a love-song, brief, passionate as the cry of a soul in pain; sometimes the verses were bitter and cynical; sometimes full of tenderest simplicity, telling of childhood, and youth and purity; sometimes dark with hidden meanings, grim, awful, cold with the chilling breath of the charnel-house. Sometimes Lesbia's heart beat a little faster as Mr. Hammond read, for it seemed as if it was he who was speaking to her, and not the dead poet.
An hour or more passed in this way. Fräulein Müller was charmed at hearing some of her favourite poems, asking now for this little bit, and anon for another, and expatiating upon the merits of German poets in general, and Heine in particular, in the pauses of the lecture. She was quite carried away by her delight in the poet, and was so entirely uplifted to the ideal world that, when a footman came with a message from Lady Maulevrier requesting her presence, she tripped gaily off at once, without a thought of danger in leaving those two together on the lawn. She had been a faithful watch-dog up to this point; but she was now lulled into a false sense of security by the idea that the time of peril was all but ended.
So she left them; but could she have looked back two minutes afterwards she would have perceived the unwisdom of that act.
No sooner had the Fräulein turned the corner of the shrubbery than Hammond laid aside his book and drew nearer Lesbia, who sat looking downward, with her eyes upon the delicate piece of fancy work which had occupied her fingers all the morning.
'Lesbia, this is my last day at Fellside, and you and I may never have a minute alone together again while I am here. Will you come for a little walk with me on the Fell? There is something I must say to you before I go.'
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