THEY quitted the burial-ground, taking their way to Grasmere. Kenelm walked by Lily’s side; not a word passed between them till they came in sight of the cottage.
Then Lily stopped abruptly, and lifting towards him her charming face, said,—
“I told you I would think over what you said to me last night. I have done so, and feel I can thank you honestly. You were very kind: I never before thought that I had a bad temper; no one ever told me so. But I see now what you mean; sometimes I feel very quickly, and then I show it. But how did I show it to you, Mr. Chillingly?”
“Did you not turn your back to me when I seated myself next you in Mrs. Braefield’s garden, vouchsafing me no reply when I asked if I had offended?”
Lily’s face became bathed in blushes, and her voice faltered, as she answered,—
“I was not offended; I was not in a bad temper then: it was worse than that.”
“Worse? what could it possibly be?”
“I am afraid it was envy.”
“Envy of what? of whom?”
“I don’t know how to explain; after all, I fear aunty is right, and the fairy tales put very silly, very naughty thoughts into one’s head. When Cinderella’s sisters went to the king’s ball, and Cinderella was left alone, did not she long to go too? Did not she envy her sisters?”
“Ah! I understand now: Sir Charles spoke of the Court Ball.”
“And you were there talking with handsome ladies—and—oh! I was so foolish and felt sore.”
“You, who when we first met wondered how people who could live in the country preferred to live in towns, do then sometimes contradict yourself, and sigh for the great world that lies beyond these quiet water banks. You feel that you have youth and beauty, and wish to be admired!”
“It is not that exactly,” said Lily, with a perplexed look in her ingenuous countenance, “and in my better moments, when the ‘bettermost self’ comes forth, I know that I am not made for the great world you speak of. But you see—” Here she paused again, and as they had now entered the garden, dropped wearily on a bench beside the path. Kenelm seated himself there too, waiting for her to finish her broken sentence.
“You see,” she continued, looking down embarrassed, and describing vague circles on the gravel with her fairy-like foot, “that at home, ever since I can remember, they have treated me as if—well, as if I were—what shall I say? the child of one of your great ladies. Even Lion, who is so noble, so grand, seemed to think when I was a mere infant that I was a little queen: once when I told a fib he did not scold me; but I never saw him look so sad and so angry as when he said, ‘Never again forget that you are a lady.’ And, but I tire you—”
“Tire me, indeed! go on.”
“No, I have said enough to explain why I have at times proud thoughts, and vain thoughts; and why, for instance, I said to myself, ‘Perhaps my place of right is among those fine ladies whom he—’ but it is all over now.” She rose hastily with a pretty laugh, and bounded towards Mrs. Cameron, who was walking slowly along the lawn with a book in her hand.
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