Yet the tone in which the name was given was neither caressing nor
tender. It simply meant, of course, that the young woman was breaking him
in to her ideas; her absurd ideas, from which Harry must be protected.
They emerged from the shrubbery and came toward her. Lydia timidly
approached Victoria. With Tatham she had not apparently been timid. But
for his mother she was all deference.
"Isn't there a flower-show here to-morrow? May Susan and I come and
help?"
The speaker raised her eyes to Lady Tatham, and Victoria read in them
something beautiful and appealing, that at once moved and angered her.
The girl seemed to offer her heart to Tatham's mother.
"_I can't marry your son!--but let me love you--be your friend!--the
friend of both_."
Was that what it meant?
What could Victoria do? There was Harry hovering in the background, with
that eager, pale look. She was helpless. Mechanically she said, "We shall
be delighted--grateful. I will send for you."
Thenceforward, however, Lydia allowed Tatham no more private speech with
her. She made herself agreeable to all Victoria's guests in turn. Delorme
fell head over ears in love with her, so judicious, yet so evidently
sincere were the flatteries she turned upon him, and so docile her
consent to another sitting. Sweet, grave Lucy Manisty watched her with
fascination. The Manisty boy dragged her to the Long Pond, to show her
the water-beasts there, as the best way of marking his approval.
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