Chapter 11
Terribly vexed was that sweet face, an almost painful sadness upon the generally sunny features.
"I will never give you up, Anne," he continued, with emotion. "I told the doctor so. I would rather give up life. And you know that your love is mine."
"But my duty is theirs. And if it came to a contest--Oh, Percival! you know, you know which would have to give place. Papa is so resolute in right."
"It's a shame that fortune should be so unequally divided!" cried the young man, resentfully. "Here's Edward with an income of thirty thousand a year, and I, his own brother, only a year or two younger, can't boast a fourth part as many hundreds!"
"Oh, Val! your father left you better off than that!"
"But so much of it went, Anne," was the gloomy answer. "I never understood the claims that came in against me, for my part. Edward had no debts to speak of; but then look at his allowance."
"He was the eldest son," she gently said.
"I know that. I am not wis.h.i.+ng myself in Edward's place, or he out of it.
I heartily wish him health and a long life to wear his honours; it is no fault of his that he should be rolling in riches, and I a martyr to poverty. Still, one can't help feeling at odd moments, when the shoe's pinching awfully, that the system is not altogether a just one."
"Was that a sincere wish, Val Elster?"
Val wheeled round on Lady Maude, from whom the question came. She had stolen up to them unperceived, and stood there in her radiant beauty, her magnificent dark eyes and her glowing cheeks set off by a little coquettish black-velvet hat.
"A sincere wish--that my brother should live long to enjoy his honours!"
echoed Val, in a surprised tone. "Indeed it is. I hope he will live to a green old age, and leave goodly sons to succeed him."
Maude laughed. A brighter hue stole into her face, a softer shade to her eyes: she saw herself, as in a vision, the goodly mother of those goodly sons.
"Are you going to wear _that_?" she asked, touching the knot of ribbon in Miss Ashton's hands with her petulant fingers. "They are Lord Hartledon's colours."
"I shall wear it on Monday. Lord Hartledon gave it to me."
A rash avowal. The compet.i.tors, in a sort of joke, had each given away one knot of his own colours. Lady Maude had had three given to her; but she was looking for another worth them all--from Lord Hartledon. And now--it was given, it appeared, to Anne Ashton! For her very life she could not have helped the pa.s.sionate taunt that escaped from her, not in words, but in tone:
"To _you_!"
"Kissing goes by favour," broke from the delicate lips of Val Elster, and Lady Maude could have struck him for the significant, saucy expression of his violet-blue eyes. "Edward loves Anne better than he ever loved his sisters; and for any other love--_that's_ still far enough from his heart, Maude."
She had recovered herself instantly; cried out "Yes" to those in the distance, as if she heard a call, and went away humming a tune.
"Val, she loves your brother," whispered Anne.
"Do you think so? I do sometimes; and again I'm puzzled. She acts
Val strolled away as he spoke. He was not at ease that day, and the sharp, meddling old woman would have been intolerable. It was all very well to put a good face on matters to Anne, but he was in more perplexity than he cared to confess to. It seemed to him that he would rather die than give up Anne: and yet--in the straightforward, practical good sense of Dr. Ashton, he had a formidable adversary to deal with.
He suddenly found an arm inserted within his own, and saw it was his brother. Walking together thus, there was a great resemblance between them.
They were of the same height, much the same build; both were very good-looking men, but Percival had the nicer features; and he was fair, and his brother dark.
"What is this, Val, about a dispute with the doctor?" began Lord Hartledon.
"It was not a dispute," returned Val. "There were a few words, and I was hasty. However, I begged his pardon, and we parted good friends."
"Under a flag of truce, eh?"
"Something of that sort."
"Something of that sort!" repeated Lord Hartledon. "Don't you think, Val, it would be to your advantage if you trusted me more thoroughly than you do? Tell me the whole truth of your position, and let me see what can be done for you."
"There's not much to tell," returned Val, in his stupidity. Even with his brother his ultra-sensitiveness clung to him; and he could no more have confessed the extent of his troubles than he could have taken wing that moment and soared away into the air. Val Elster was one of those who trust to things "coming right" with time.
"I have been talking to the doctor, Val. I called in just now to see Mrs.
Ashton, and he spoke to me about you."
"Very kind of him, I'm sure!" retorted Val. "It is just this, Edward. He is vexed at what he calls my idle ways, and waste of time: as if I need plod on, like a city clerk, six days a week and no holidays! I know I must do something before I can win Anne; and I will do it: but the doctor need not begin to cry out about cancelling the engagement."
"How much do you owe, Val?"
"I can't tell."
Lord Hartledon thought this an evasion. But it was true. Val Elster knew he owed a great deal more than he could pay; but how much it might be on the whole, he had but a very faint idea.
"Well, Val, I have told the doctor I shall look into matters, and I hope to do it efficiently, for Anne's sake. I suppose the best thing will be to try and get you an appointment again."
"Oh, Edward, if you would! And you know you have the ear of the ministry."
"I dare say it can be managed. But this will be of little use if you are still to remain an embarra.s.sed man. I hear you were afraid of arrest in London."
"Who told you that?"
"Dawkes."
"Dawkes! Then, Edward--" Val Elster stopped. In his vexation, he was about to retaliate on Captain Dawkes by a little revelation on the score of _his_ affairs, certain things that might not have redounded to that gallant officer's credit. But he arrested the words in time: he was of a kindly nature, not fond of returning ill for ill. With all his follies, Val Elster could not remember to have committed an evil act in all his life, save one. And that one he had still the pleasure of paying for pretty deeply.
"Dawkes knows nothing of my affairs except from hearsay, Edward. I was once intimate with the man; but he served me a shabby trick, and that ended the friends.h.i.+p. I don't like him."
"I dare say what he said was not true," said Lord Hartledon kindly. "You might as well make a confidant of me. However, I have not time to talk to-day. We will go into the matter, Val, after Monday, when this race has come off, and see what arrangement can be made for you. There's only one thing bothers me."
"What's that?"
"The danger that it may be a wasted arrangement. If you are only set up on your legs to come down again, as you have before, it will be so much waste of time and money; so much loss, to me, of temper. Don't you see, Val?"
Percival Elster stopped in his walk, and withdrew his arm from his brother's; his face and voice full of emotion.
"Edward, I have learnt a lesson. What it has cost me I hardly yet know: but it is _learnt_. On my sacred word of honour, in the solemn presence of Heaven, I a.s.sert it, that I will never put my hand to another bill, whatever may be the temptation. I have overcome, in this respect at least, my sin."
"Your sin?"
"My nature's great sin; the besetting sin that has clung to me through life; the unfortunate sin that is my bane to this hour--cowardly irresolution."