The Baronet's Bride Part 28

"Oh, a domestic!" said Mr. Parmalee, as if to himself. "Who'd a'

thought it? Lady Kingsland's companion? Which of 'em? There's two, ain't there?"

"Sir Everard's mother has left Kingsland Court. I am companion to Sir Everard's wife."

"Ah! jest so! Got married lately, didn't he! Might I ask your name, miss?"

"I am Sybilla Silver."

"Thanky," said Mr. Parmalee, with a satisfied nod. "So much easier getting along when you know a person's name. Married a Miss Hunsden, didn't he--the baronet?"

"Yes. Miss Harriet Hunsden."

"That's her. Lived with her pa, an old officer in the army, didn't she? Used to be over there in America?"

"Yes. Did you know her?"

"Wa-al, no," replied Mr. Parmalee, with a queer sidelong look at the lady; "I can't say I did. They told me down to the tavern all about it. Handsome young lady, wasn't she? One of your tall-stepping, high-mettled sort?"

"Yes."

"And her pa's dead, and he left her nothing? Was poor as a church-mouse, that old officer, wasn't he?"

"Captain Hunsden had only his pay."

"And they've gone off on a bridal tower? Now when do you expect them back?"

"In a month. Are you particularly desirous of seeing Sir Everard or Lady Kingsland?" asked Sybilla, suddenly and sharply.

"Well, yes," he said, slowly, "I am. I'm collecting photographic views of all your princ.i.p.al buildings over here, and I'm going to ask Sir Everard to let me take this place, inside and out. These rooms are the most scrumptious concerns I've seen lately, and the Fifth Avenue Hotel is some pumpkins, too. Oh, these are the pictures, are they? What a jolly lot!"

Mr. Parmalee became immediately absorbed by the hosts of dead-and-gone Kingslands looking down from the oak-paneled walls. Miss Silver fluently gave him names, and dates, and histories.

"Seems to me," said Mr. Parmalee, "those old fellows didn't die in their beds--many of 'em. What with battles, and duels, and high treason, and sich, they all came to unpleasant ends. Where's the present Kingsland's?"

"Sir Everard's portrait is in the library."

"And her ladys.h.i.+p--his wife?"

"We have no picture of Lady Kingsland as yet."

Mr. Parmalee's inscrutable face told nothing--whether he was disappointed or not. He followed Miss Silver all over the house, saw everything worth seeing, and took the "hull concern," as he expressed it, as a matter of course.

"Should like to come again," said Mr. Parmalee. "A fellow couldn't see all that's worth seeing round here in less than a month. Might I step up again to-morrow, Miss Silver?"

Miss Silver shook her head.

"I'm afraid not. Thursday is visitors' day, and I dare not infringe the rules. You may come every Thursday while you stay, and meantime the gardeners will show you over the grounds whenever you desire. How long do you remain, Mr. Parmalee?"

"That's oncertain," replied the artist, cautiously. "Perhaps not long, perhaps longer. I'm much obliged to you, miss, for all the bother I've made you."

"Not at all," said Sybilla, politely. "I shall be happy at any time to give you any information in my power."

"Thanky. Good-evening."

The tall American swung off with long strides. The young lady watched him out of sight.

"There is more in this than meets the eye," she thought. "That man knows something of Harriet--Lady Kingsland. I'll cultivate him for my lady's sake."

After that Mr. Parmalee and Miss Silver met frequently. In her walks to the village it got to be the regular thing for the American to become her escort.

He was rather clever at pencil-drawing, and made numerous sketches of the house, and took the likenesses of all the servants. He even set up a photographic place down in the village, and announced himself ready to "take" the whole population at "half a dollar" a head.

"There's nothing like making hay while the sun s.h.i.+nes," remarked Mr.

Parmalee to himself. "I may as well do a little stroke of business, to keep my hand in, while I wait for my lady. There ain't no telling how this little speculation of mine may turn out, after all."

So the weeks went by, and every Thursday found the American exploring the house. He was a curious study to Sybilla as he went along, his hands invariably in his pockets, his hat pushed to the back of his head, whistling softly and meditatively.

Every day she became more convinced he knew something of Harrie Hunsden's American antecedents, and every day she grew more gracious.

But if Mr. Parmalee had his secrets, he knew how to keep them.

"Can he ever have been a lover of hers in New York?" Sybilla asked herself. "I know she was there two years at school."

But it seemed improbable. Harrie could not have been over thirteen or fourteen at the time.

The honey-moon month pa.s.sed--the January day that was to bring the happy pair home arrived. In the golden sunset of a glorious winter day the carriage rolled up the avenue, and Sir Everard handed Lady Kingsland out.

The long line of servants were drawn up in the hall, with Mrs. Comfit and Miss Silver at their head. High and happy as a young prince, Sir Everard strode in among them, with his bride on his arm. And she--Sybilla Silver--set her teeth as she looked at her, so gloriously radiant in her wedded bliss.

Mr. Parmalee, lounging among the trees, caught one glimpse of that exquisite face as it flashed by.

"By George! ain't she a stunner? Not a bit like t'other one, with her black eyes and tarry hair. I've seen quadroon girls, down South, whiter than Miss Silver. And, what's more, she isn't a bit like--like the lady in London, that she'd ought to look like."

Sybilla saw very little of Sir Everard or his bride that evening. But the next morning, at breakfast, she broached the subject of Mr.

Parmalee.

"Wants to take photographic views of the place, does he?" said Sir Everard, carelessly. "Is he too timid to speak for himself, Sybilla?"

"Mr. Parmalee is not in the least bashful. He merely labors under the delusion that a pet.i.tion proffered by me can not fail."

"Oh, the fellow is welcome!" the baronet said, indifferently. "Let him amuse himself, by all means. If the views are good, I will have some myself."

Mr. Parmalee presented himself in the course of the day.

Sir Everard received him politely in the library.

"Most a.s.suredly, Mr.--oh, Parmalee. Take the views, of course. I am glad you admire Kingsland. You have been making some sketches already, Miss Silver tells me."

Miss Silver herself had ushered the gentleman in, and now stood lingeringly by the door-way. My lady sat watching the ceaseless rain with indolent eyes, holding a novel in her lap, and looking very serene and handsome.