Her hair is lovely, just like silken threads of pale gold,"
concluded Penelope as Mr. Hamlyn's step was heard.
He took his wife into the dining-room, apologising for being late. She,
giving full range to the fancies she had called up, heard him in silence
with a hardening, haughty face.
"Philip, you know who that woman is," she suddenly exclaimed during a
temporary absence of Japhet from the dining-room. "What is it that she
wants with you?"
"I!" he returned, in a surprise very well feigned if not real. "What
woman? Do you mean the one who was standing out there yesterday?"
"You know I do. She has been there again--all the blessed afternoon, as
Penelope expresses it. Asking questions of the girl about you--and
me--and Walter; and saying the child has your beautiful brown eyes. _I
ask you who is she?_"
Mr. Hamlyn laid down his knife and fork to gaze at his wife. He looked
quite at sea.
"Eliza, I assure you I know nothing about it. Or about her."
"Indeed! Don't you think it may be some acquaintance, old or new?
Possibly someone you knew in the days gone by--come over seas to see
whether you are yet in the land of the living? She has wonderful hair,
which looks like spun gold.
Pages:
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136