exultant war cry of the Macdonalds of Lochaber.
Ian’s face blazed as he listened to the fierce Gaelic words calling out the traditional invitation to the wolves of Lochaber to come feast on the flesh of the fallen enemy. The rest of the company did not understand the words, but the spirit was unmistakable. It was not civilized, Robert Sedburgh thought, as he watched Ian Macdonald’s face, but it was magnificent.
When Frances finally rose from the piano her eyes met Ian’s in a glance of such unvoiced intensity that Robert Sedburgh was shocked. Something had happened this afternoon; he was almost sure of it. Lord Robert loved Frances very much and his antennae were extremely sensitive where she was concerned. He observed her closely for the rest of the evening, and he did not like what he saw.
The incident that disturbed him most occurred toward the end of the evening. He and Ian were standing talking by the tall French windows. Lady Darlington had finished pouring tea and Frances was seated on a sofa next to Catherine Darlington, still holding her cup and talking about music. Lord Robert said something to Ian and Ian agreed, put his plate down and suddenly yawned. “I beg your pardon,” he apologized easily. “I have been somewhat short of sleep these last few days.”
“Perhaps you ought to seek your bed early this evening,” said Lord Robert courteously.
Ian nodded agreement, looked at Frances’s back with warm and peaceful eyes, and smiled faintly. She turned around as if he had touched her.
It was defeat for Robert Sedburgh, and he knew it. The rest of the night his face wore an uncharacteristically harsh expression, that was underlined by the unhappiness in his eyes whenever he looked at Frances.
The next day Lady Mary Graham received a letter from her sister, which caused her to pack her bags and her niece and depart abruptly for Somerset. Mrs.Treveleyn had suffered a miscarriage and urgently needed the solace of Lady Mary’s company, so wrote Mr. Treveleyn, Lady Mary’s brother-in-law. Frances did not want to go, but in the face of her aunt’s real distress she made no complaint. She went to Somerset, was helpful when she could be, and kept out of the way when she couldn’t. They stayed three weeks.
They arrived back in London on September 8. On September 9, Ian called. Frances took him to the room Douglas was using as a studio on the pretense of showing him her portrait. Lady Mary let them go. Whateverwas between Frances and Ian wouldn’t go away by keeping them apart, and she had come to the conclusion that they had better make a decision one way or another. So she refrained from accompanying them, for which Frances gave her a grateful smile;
Ian did look at the picture. It was almost finished
- Douglas was working on background at present. Ian’s gaze went from the radiant young face of the portrait to the girl beside him. “Anyone who didn’t know you would say Douglas was a liar,” he said soberly.
Faint color stained her cheeks. He so rarely complimented her. “I think it’s good,” she admitted.
“It looks like you,” he said laconically. He turned away, dismissing the portrait from his mind in favor of the model. “God, I didn’t think you were ever coming back.”
“Neither did I.”
His eyes on her were intent. “Shall I speak to your uncle?”
She smiled at him, a glowing vital smile that illuminated her face. “Yes. I heard from Papa. He says you will have no trouble enrolling in the University of Edinburgh. We can live with him and ...”
He listened to her run on, a look of incredulity growing on his face. Finally he cut in harshly. “You really don’t expect me to go back to school?”
The light died from her face to be replaced by a braced and wary stillness. “If you don’t return to school,” she finally answered, “how do you intend to earn a living? My money from my mother isn’t enough to live on.”
All the muscles in Ian’s face
Ian’s face blazed as he listened to the fierce Gaelic words calling out the traditional invitation to the wolves of Lochaber to come feast on the flesh of the fallen enemy. The rest of the company did not understand the words, but the spirit was unmistakable. It was not civilized, Robert Sedburgh thought, as he watched Ian Macdonald’s face, but it was magnificent.
When Frances finally rose from the piano her eyes met Ian’s in a glance of such unvoiced intensity that Robert Sedburgh was shocked. Something had happened this afternoon; he was almost sure of it. Lord Robert loved Frances very much and his antennae were extremely sensitive where she was concerned. He observed her closely for the rest of the evening, and he did not like what he saw.
The incident that disturbed him most occurred toward the end of the evening. He and Ian were standing talking by the tall French windows. Lady Darlington had finished pouring tea and Frances was seated on a sofa next to Catherine Darlington, still holding her cup and talking about music. Lord Robert said something to Ian and Ian agreed, put his plate down and suddenly yawned. “I beg your pardon,” he apologized easily. “I have been somewhat short of sleep these last few days.”
“Perhaps you ought to seek your bed early this evening,” said Lord Robert courteously.
Ian nodded agreement, looked at Frances’s back with warm and peaceful eyes, and smiled faintly. She turned around as if he had touched her.
It was defeat for Robert Sedburgh, and he knew it. The rest of the night his face wore an uncharacteristically harsh expression, that was underlined by the unhappiness in his eyes whenever he looked at Frances.
The next day Lady Mary Graham received a letter from her sister, which caused her to pack her bags and her niece and depart abruptly for Somerset. Mrs.Treveleyn had suffered a miscarriage and urgently needed the solace of Lady Mary’s company, so wrote Mr. Treveleyn, Lady Mary’s brother-in-law. Frances did not want to go, but in the face of her aunt’s real distress she made no complaint. She went to Somerset, was helpful when she could be, and kept out of the way when she couldn’t. They stayed three weeks.
They arrived back in London on September 8. On September 9, Ian called. Frances took him to the room Douglas was using as a studio on the pretense of showing him her portrait. Lady Mary let them go. Whateverwas between Frances and Ian wouldn’t go away by keeping them apart, and she had come to the conclusion that they had better make a decision one way or another. So she refrained from accompanying them, for which Frances gave her a grateful smile;
Ian did look at the picture. It was almost finished
- Douglas was working on background at present. Ian’s gaze went from the radiant young face of the portrait to the girl beside him. “Anyone who didn’t know you would say Douglas was a liar,” he said soberly.
Faint color stained her cheeks. He so rarely complimented her. “I think it’s good,” she admitted.
“It looks like you,” he said laconically. He turned away, dismissing the portrait from his mind in favor of the model. “God, I didn’t think you were ever coming back.”
“Neither did I.”
His eyes on her were intent. “Shall I speak to your uncle?”
She smiled at him, a glowing vital smile that illuminated her face. “Yes. I heard from Papa. He says you will have no trouble enrolling in the University of Edinburgh. We can live with him and ...”
He listened to her run on, a look of incredulity growing on his face. Finally he cut in harshly. “You really don’t expect me to go back to school?”
The light died from her face to be replaced by a braced and wary stillness. “If you don’t return to school,” she finally answered, “how do you intend to earn a living? My money from my mother isn’t enough to live on.”
All the muscles in Ian’s face
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