I said I was delighted to see her alone. No look more kind could be expressed in a human countenance than is expressed in hers. She has the same exceptional appearance of breeding that Lord Robert has--tiny ears and wrists and head; even dressed as a char-woman Lady Merrenden would look like a great lady.
Very soon we were talking without the least restraint. She did not speak of people or of very deep things, but it gave one the impression of an elevated mind and a knowledge of books, and wide thoughts. Oh, I could love her so easily.
We had been talking for nearly a quarter of an hour. She had incidentally asked me where I was staying now, and had not seemed surprised or shocked when I said Claridge's, and by myself.
All she said was: "What a lonely little girl! But I dare say it is very restful sometimes to be by one's self, only you must let your friends come and see you, won't you?"
"I don't think I have any friends," I said. "You see, I have been out so little, but if you would come and see me--oh, I should be so grateful."
"Then you must count me as one of your rare friends!" she said.
Nothing could be so rare or so sweet as her smile. Fancy papa throwing over this angel for Mrs. Carruthers! Men are certainly unaccountable creatures.
I said I would be too honored to have her for a friend, and she took my hand.
"You bring back the long ago," she said. "My name is Evangeline, too--Sophia Evangeline--and I sometimes think you may have been called so in remembrance of me."
What a strange, powerful factor love must be! Here were these two women, Mrs. Carruthers and Lady Merrenden--the very opposites of each other--and they had evidently both adored papa, and both, according to their natures, had taken an interest in me in consequence, the child of a third woman who had superseded them both! Papa must have been extraordinarily fascinating, for to the day of her death Mrs. Carruthers had his miniature on her table, with a fresh rose beside it--his memory the only soft spot, it seemed, in her hard heart.
And this sweet lady's eyes melted in tenderness when she spoke of the long ago, although she does not know me well enough yet to say anything further. To me papa's picture is nothing so very wonderful--just a good-looking young Guardsman, with eyes shaped like mine, only gray, and light, curly hair. He must have had "a way with him," as the servants say.