Rigid propriety may have slain its thousands, perhaps its tens
of thousands, but the elder lady foresaw with terrible clearness that
it would never find a victim in this blithe girl, who refrained from
dancing down the stairs before her simply because her happiness was
accustomed to find expression in her looks, not in her actions.
However, motherly allegiance to duty might curb if it could not
altogether control. "Is it possible that I heard you humming a tune as
you came through the hall?" she inquired.
"No, no; it is impossible! I hummed it so low that you certainly could
not have heard it!"
Dignified rebuke was out of the question, as they had reached the foot
of the stairway. In another moment Edward Macleod was bending
profoundly over the hand of his hostess. The aristocratic, little old
lady, with her delicate faded face, always seemed to him like some
rare piece of porcelain or other fragile, highly-finished object. He
led her to the easiest chair, and drew his own close beside her, only
interrupting the absorbed attention which he gave to her remarks by
soft inquiries regarding her health, or compliments upon the way in
which her not very vigorous constitution had withstood the severity of
the Canadian winter.
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