61. CHAPTER LXI.
HARLEY'S “LITTLE SISTER.”
Anybody who had looked at Justin Harley as he entered the
drawing-room, in the full light streaming from the tall silver candlestick,
would have been struck with the resplendent expression of
his face.
Gloom, sadness, unrest, seemed to have been swept from his
forehead as the shadow of a cloud is swept from a landscape by the
wind. His face glowed, his eyes sparkled. He had begun to stoop
a little of late, and to drag his feet as he walked; now his head rose
superbly erect, and, as he entered the drawing-room, his step was
elastic, his feet were planted firmly and strongly as before; the man
was, all over, from head to foot, in bearing of person as in expression
of face, the picture of joy, hope, happiness.
Some music was lying on the harpsichord. He went and took it
up, thinking, “Her hand had touched this!” A little glove lay beside
it which he had seen on the hand of Evelyn. He took it and
pressed it to his lips.
As he did so, a low laugh came from the doorway, and, blushing
like a boy, Harley turned round. He saw before him the plump
young figure of Miss Annie Bland, who was looking at him with
her mischievous eyes, and indulging in a low cachinnation.
She came in with a slight hesitation in her manner, a delightful
expression of demureness, and an attempt to look firm.
“Good evening, Mr. Harley!” she said, politely, trying not to
smile.
Harley came up to her, took her hand, looked into her face with
a smile, and said;
“Good evening, little sister!”
As he uttered these words, he began to laugh, and Miss Annie,
having the tables thus suddenly turned upon her, was overwhelmed
with confusion, blushing like a peony.
“Don't blush so, Annie!” said Harley, with his exquisite sweetness
and cordiality, which seemed to caress the person to whom he
spoke at certain moments; “you must not think me very informal,
or that I am laughing at you, or teasing you. I call you my little
sister because I have just received your father's consent to Sainty's
union with you, and hope he has had your consent first.”
Annie was quite overwhelmed, and utterly speechless.
“Sainty is a lucky fellow indeed, my dear—you will let me call
you that, as I'm an old gentlemen, and not a young one. I love
Sainty more than I love anybody else in the world, and I am certain
that he will be happy with his little wife!”
The voice laughed; the kind eyes were full of sunshine.
“I embarrass you a little, I see,” he added, “and will not continue
to do so. Everybody must be in your grandmother's room,
and as I am not intimate enough to go thither without an escort,
suppose you take my arm and be my guide.”
Annie was never more obliged in all her life to any human being.
She was ready, as she afterwards said, to “sink into the floor,” at
the prospect of an indefinite continuation of the interview. And
now he had not teased her any more; he had come to her relief.
With blushing cheeks Miss Annie Bland placed her small hand
upon the offered arm, fixed her eyes intently upon the floor, a
roguish expression contending in them with her embarrassment,
and they went toward Mrs. Bland's room.
They reached the door, and Annie was about to turn the knob,
when Harley said:
“I think I should knock. My sudden appearance might surprise
somebody.
“Surprise somebody? Oh, no! Who could be surprised?”
Harley knocked.
“Come in!” was heard.
Harley opened the door, and entered behind Annie. He was
about to bow. Suddenly he stopped short and stood motionless,
rigid as a figure of stone.
The Lady of the Snow was looking at him.
