One of the tall footmen, at the end of the impressive vista, had opened wide the portals, as if even he were aware of the dignity to which the little visitor had virtually been raised. But Jackson lingered a moment; he was visibly unsatisfied, though apparently so little unconscious that he was unsatisfying. "I don't think you understand me."
"Your ideas are certainly different," said Lady Canterville.
"If the girl understands you, that 's enough!" Lord Canterville exclaimed in a jovial, detached, irrelevant way.
"May not she write to me?" Jackson asked of her mother. "I certainly must write to her, you know, if you won't let me see her."
"Oh, yes, you may write to her, Mr. Lemon."
There was a point for a moment in the look that he gave Lady Canterville, while he said to himself that if it were necessary he would transmit his notes through the old lady at Roehampton. "All right, good by; you know what I want, at any rate." Then, as he was going, he turned and added: "You need n't be afraid that I won't bring her over in the hot weather!"
"In the hot weather?" Lady Canterville murmured, with vague visions of the torrid zone, while the young American quitted the house with the sense that he had made great concessions.
His host and hostess passed into a small morningroom, and (Lord Canterville having taken up his hat
