Chapter 56
"The same charming scene!" he exclaimed. "I think the moonlight view from this window most beautiful. The dark trees, and the white walls of Lady G.o.dolphin's Folly, rising there, remain on my memory as a painted scene."
He folded his arms and stood there, gazing still. Cecil stole a look up at him: at his pale, attractive face, with its expression of care. She had wondered once why that look of care should be conspicuous there; but not after she became acquainted with his domestic history.
"Have you returned to England to remain, Lord Averil?"
The question awoke him from his reverie. He turned to Cecil, and a sudden impulse prompted him to stake his fate on the die of the moment.
It was not a lucky throw.
"I would remain if I could induce one to share my name and home. Forgive me, Cecil, if I anger you by thus hastily speaking. Will you forget the past, and help _me_ to forget it?--will you let me make you my dear wife?"
In saying "Will you forget the past," Lord Averil had alluded to his first marriage. In his extreme sensitiveness upon that point, he doubted whether Cecil might not object to succeed the dead Lady Averil: he believed those hasty and ill-natured words, reported to him as having been spoken by her, bore upon that sore point alone. Cecil, on the contrary, a.s.sumed that her forgetfulness was asked for his own behaviour to her, in so far as that he had gone away and left her without word or explanation. She grew quite pale with anger. Lord Averil resumed, his manner earnest, his voice low and tender.
"I have loved you, Cecil, from the first day that I saw you at Mrs.
Averil's. I dragged myself away from the place, because I loved you, fearing lest you might come to see my folly. It was worse than folly then, for I was not a free man. I have gone on loving you more and more, from that time to this. I went abroad this last time hoping to forget you; striving to forget you; but I cannot do it, and the love has only become stronger. Forgive, I say, my urging it upon you in this moment's impulse."
Poor Cecil was all at sea. "Went abroad, hoping to forget her; striving to forget her!" It was worse and worse. She flung his hand away.
"Oh, Cecil! can you not love me?" he exclaimed in agitation. "Will you not give me hope that you will sometime be my wife?"
"No, I cannot love you. I will not give you hope. I would rather marry any one in the world than you. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Lord Averil!"
Not a very dignified rejoinder. And Cecil, what with anger, what with _love_, burst into even less dignified tears, and left the room in a pa.s.sion. Lord Averil bit his lips to pain.
Janet entered, unsuspicious. He turned from the window, and smoothed his brow, gathering what equanimity he could, as he proceeded to inquire after Mr. G.o.dolphin.
CHAPTER IV.
CHARLOTTE PAIN'S "TURN-OUT."
A stylish vehicle, high enough for a fire-escape, its green wheels picked out with gleaming red; was das.h.i.+ng up the streets of Prior's Ash.
A lady was seated in it, driving its pair of blood-horses, whose restive mettle appeared more fitted for a man's guidance than a woman's. You need not be told that it was Charlotte Pain; no one else of her s.e.x in Prior's Ash would have driven such a turn-out. Prior's Ash, rather at a loss what name to give it, for the like of it had never
Past the Bank it flew; when, as if a sudden thought appeared to take the driver, it suddenly whirled round, to the imminent danger of the street in general, retraced its steps past the Bank, dashed round the corner of Crosse Street, and drew up at the entrance to Mr. George G.o.dolphin's.
The servant sprang from the seat behind.
"Inquire if Mrs. George G.o.dolphin is within."
Mrs. George G.o.dolphin was within, and Charlotte entered. Across the hall, up the handsome staircase lined with paintings, to the still more handsome drawing-room, swept she, conducted by a servant. Margery looked out at an opposite door, as Charlotte entered that of the drawing-room, her curious eyes taking in at a glance Charlotte's attire. Charlotte wore a handsome mauve brocaded skirt, trailing the ground at the very least half a yard behind her, and a close habit of mauve velvet. A black hat with a turned-up brim, and a profusion of mauve feathers, adorned her head, and a little bit of gauze, mauve-coloured also, came half-way down her face, fitting tightly round the nose and cheeks. At that period, this style of dress was very uncommon.
Margery retired with a sniff. Had it been any one she approved, any especial friend of her mistress, she would have invited her into her mistress's presence, to the little boudoir, where Maria was seated. A pretty boudoir, tastefully furnished. The bedroom, dressing-room, and this boudoir communicated with each other. Being who it was, Margery allowed the drawing-room the honour of receiving the visitor.
Maria sat at a table, her drawing materials before her. Miss Meta, perched in a high chair, was accommodated with a pencil and paper opposite. "It's Mrs. Pain in a mask," was Margery's salutation.
Maria laid down her pencil. "Mrs. Pain in a mask!" she echoed.
"It looks like nothing else, ma'am," responded Margery. "_I_ never saw Christian folks make themselves into such spectacles before. It's to be hoped she won't go in that guise to call at Ashlydyat: Miss Janet would be sending for the mad doctor."
Maria smiled. "You never admire Mrs. Pain's style of dress, Margery."
"It's not taking," rejoined Margery. "Honest faces would as soon see themselves standing out from a bra.s.s pan, as with one of them brazen hats stuck upon them."
Apart from her prejudices against Mrs. Pain--whatever those prejudices might be--it was evident that Margery did not admire the fas.h.i.+onable head-gear. Maria moved to the door, and Miss Meta scrambled off her chair to follow her. "Meta go too, mamma."
Margery caught the child up as if she were s.n.a.t.c.hing her from a fiery furnace, smothered her in her arms, and whispered unheard-of visions of immediate cakes and sweetmeats, that were to be had by ascending to the nursery, and bore her away in triumph. Did she fear there was contamination for the child in Mrs. Pain's hat?
Maria, not having observed the bit of by-play, proceeded to the presence of Charlotte. Not a greater contrast had there been between them in those old days at Broomhead, than there was now. Maria was the same quiet, essentially lady-like girl as of yore: she looked but a girl still, in her pretty muslin dress. Charlotte was standing at the window, watching her restless horses, which the servant was driving about in the front street, but could scarcely manage. She put back her hand to Maria.
"How are you to-day; Mrs. George G.o.dolphin? Excuse my apparent rudeness: I am looking at my horses. If the man cannot keep them within bounds, I must go down myself."
Maria took her place by the side of Charlotte. The horses looked terrific animals in her eyes, very much inclined to kick the carriage to pieces and to bolt into the Bank afterwards. "Did _you_ drive them here?"
"n.o.body else can drive them," replied Charlotte with a laugh. "I should like to seduce Kate behind them some day when she is at Prior's Ash: she would be in a fit with fright before we were home again."
"How can you risk your own life, Mrs. Pain?"
"My life! that is a good joke," said Charlotte. "If I could not manage the horses, I should not drive them. Did you notice the one I was riding yesterday, when you met me with your husband--a party of us together?"
"Not particularly," replied Maria. "It was just at the turn of the road, you know. I think I looked chiefly at George."
"You ought to have noticed my horse. You must see him another time. He is the most splendid animal; down from London only the previous day. I rode him yesterday for the first time."
"I should not detect any of his beauties; I scarcely know one horse from another," acknowledged Maria.
"Ah! You are not particularly observant," returned Charlotte in good-humoured sarcasm. "The horse was a present to me. He cost a hundred and thirty guineas. Those animals below are getting quieter now."
She withdrew from the window, sitting down on a sofa. Maria took a seat near her. "We had been to see Mrs. Averil yesterday when we met you,"
observed Maria. "She is still a great sufferer."
"So Lord Averil told me," answered Charlotte. "He dined at the Folly yesterday."
"Did he? George did not mention that Lord Averil was of the party. Did you dine with them?"
"Not I," answered Charlotte. "It was bore enough to have them in the drawing-room afterwards. Only a few of them came in. As to your husband, I never set eyes upon him at all."
"He came home early. I think his head ached. He----"
"Oh, he did come home, then!" interrupted Charlotte.
Maria looked surprised. "Of course he came home. Why should he not?"
"How should I know why?" was Charlotte's answer. "This house has the bother of it to-night, I hear. It _is_ nothing but a bother, a gentleman's dinner-party!"
"It is a sort of business party to-night, I believe," observed Maria.
"Verrall is coming. He told me so. Do you know how Mr. G.o.dolphin is?"