'What terribly hoydenish manners!' murmured Lesbia, with a languid shrug
of her shoulders, as she strolled back to the drawing-room.
She cared very little for the newspapers, for politics not at all; but
anything was better than everlasting-contemplation of the blue still
water, and the rugged crest of Helm Crag.
'What was the matter with Mary that she rushed off like a mad woman?'
inquired Lady Maulevrier, looking up from the _Times_.
'I haven't the least idea. Mary's movements are quite beyond the limits
of my comprehension. Perhaps she has gone after a bird's-nest.'
Mary was intent upon no bird's-nest. Her quick ear had caught the sound
of manly voices in the winding drive under the pine wood; and surely,
yes, surely one was a clear and familiar voice, which heralded the
coming of happiness. In such a moment she seemed to have wings. She
became unconscious that she touched the earth; she went skimming
bird-like over the lawn, and in and out, with fluttering muslin frock,
among arbutus and bay, yew and laurel, till she stood poised lightly on
the top of the wooded bank which bordered the steep ascent to Lady
Maulevrier's gate, looking down at two figures which were sauntering up
the drive.
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