The mother could not help feeling a little pang of jealousy as she
owned to herself that the Friar was a very fine-looking youth, with
the air of a university man, and of one used to good society, and
that he did look most perilously happy. He was the next thing to her
own son, but not quite the same, and she half repented of her candour
to Mrs. Evelyn, and wished that the keen, sensitive face and
soldierly figure could be there to reassert their influence.
There ensued a cheerful, pleasant Saturday, which did much to restore
the ordinary tone between the old friends and to take off the sense
of strangeness. It was evident that Lord Fordham had insensibly
become much more the real head and master of the house than at the
time when the Brownlow party had last been there, and that he had
taken on him much more of the duties of his position than he had then
seemed capable of fulfilling. It might cost much effort, but he had
ceased to be the mere invalid, and had come to take his part
thoroughly and effectively, and to win trust and confidence. It was
strange to think how Babie could ever have called him a muff merely
to be pitied.
The Sundays at Fordham were always delightful. The little Church was
as near perfection as might be. It was satisfactory to see that
Fordham's gentleness and courtesy had dispelled all the clouds, and
Barbara had returned to her ordinary manner; perhaps a little more
sedate and gentle than usual, and towards him she was curiously
submissive, as if she had a certain awe of the tenderness she had
rejected.
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