One hand shielded her eyes; the other rested on the half-open gate,
and swayed it softly to and fro upon its hinge. As she stood thus,
some happy touch of opportunity, some trick of circumstance or
grouping, must, I think, have helped Mr. Fogo to a conclusion he had
been seeking for weeks. It is certain that though he has since had
abundant opportunities of studying Tamsin, and noting that untaught
grace of body in which many still find the secret of her charm, to
his last day she will always be for him the woman who stood, this
summer evening, beside the gate and looked up the river.
And yet, as the boat drew near, the pleasantest feature in the
picture was the smile with which she welcomed her brothers, though it
contained some wonder to see them in Mr. Fogo's boat, and gave place
to quick alarm as she remarked the extreme blueness of that
gentleman's nose and the extreme pallor of his other features.
"Tamsin, my dear, es the cloth laid?"
"Yes, Peter, and the kettle ready to boil."
"We was thinkin' as Shenachrum would be suitin' Mr. Fogo better.
He've met wi' an accident."
"Again?" There was something of disdain in her eyes as she curtseyed
to him, but it softened immediately. "You're kindly welcome, sir,"
she added, "and the Shenachrum shall be ready in ten minutes.
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