“At last I can take time to present you to some of my friends, Mr. Hayn. May I have your arm?”
Phil at once felt entirely at ease. It was merely a return of an old and familiar sensation, for he had always been highly esteemed by the more mature maidens of Haynton, and generally found them far more inspiring company than their younger sisters. Phil informed himself, in the intervals of introductions, that Miss Dinon was not like Lucia in a single particular, but she certainly was a magnificent creature. Her features, though rather large, were perfect, her eye was full of soul, especially when he looked down into it, as from his height he was obliged to, and the pose of her head, upon shoulders displayed according to the prevailing custom of evening dress, was simply superb. She found opportunities to chat a great deal, too, as they made the tour of the parlors, and all she said implied that her hearer was a man of sense, who did not require to be fed alternately upon the husks and froth of polite conversation. Phil’s wit was quite equal to that of his fair entertainer, and as her face reflected her feelings the guests began to be conscious that their hostess and the stranger made a remarkably fine-looking couple.
Impossible though he would have imagined it half an hour before, Phil’s thoughts had been entirely destitute of Lucia for a few moments; suddenly, however, they recovered her, for looking across the head of a little rosebud to whom he had just been introduced, Phil beheld Lucia looking at him with an expression that startled him. He never before had seen her look that way,--very sober, half blank, half angry. What could it mean? Could she be offended? But why? Was he not for the moment in charge of his hostess, who, according to Haynton custom, and probably custom everywhere else, had supreme right when she chose to exercise it?
Could it be--the thought came to him as suddenly as an unexpected blow--could it be that she was jealous of his attention to Miss Dinon, and of his probably apparent enjoyment of that lady’s society? Oh, horrible, delicious thought! Jealousy was not an unknown quality at Haynton: he had observed its development often and often. But to be jealous a girl must be very fond of a man, or at least desirous of his regard. Could it be that Lucia regarded him as he did her? Did she really esteem him as more than a mere acquaintance? If not, why that strange look?