Elster's Folly Part 33

"Let her try to. I should speak to Maude alone, and put her upon her generosity to release you. Tell her you presumed upon your cousinship; and confess that you have long been engaged to marry Miss Ashton."

"She knows that: they have both known it all along. My brother was the first to tell them, before he died."

"They knew it?" inquired Mr. Carr, believing he had not heard correctly.

"Certainly. There has been no secret made of my engagement to Anne. All the world knows of that."

"Then--though I do not in the least defend or excuse you--your breaking with Lady Maude may be more pardonable. They are poor, are they not, this Dowager Kirton and Lady Maude?"

"Poor as Job. Hard up, I think."

"Then they are angling for the broad lands of Hartledon. I see it all.

You have been a victim to fortune-hunting."

"There you are wrong, Carr. I can't answer for the dowager one way or the other; but Maude is the most disinterested--"

"Of course: girls on the look-out for establishments always are. Have it as you like."

He spoke in tones of ridicule; and Hartledon jumped off the stile and led the way home.

That Lord Hartledon had got himself into a very serious predicament, Mr.

Carr plainly saw. His good nature, his sensitive regard for the feelings of others, rendering it so impossible for him to say no, and above all his vacillating disposition, were his paramount characteristics still: in a degree they ever would be. Easily led as ever, he was as a very reed in the hands of the crafty old woman of the world, located with him. She had determined that he should become the husband of her daughter; and was as certain of accomplishing her end as if she had foreseen the future.

Lord Hartledon himself afterwards, in his bitter repentance, said, over and over again, that circ.u.mstances were against him; and they certainly were so, as you will find.

Lord Hartledon thought he was making headway against it now, in sending for his old friend, and resolving to be guided by his advice.

"I will take an opportunity of speaking to Maude, Carr," he resumed. "I would rather not do it, of course; but I see there's no help for it."

"Make the opportunity," said Mr. Carr, with emphasis. "Don't delay a day; I shall expect you to write me a letter to-morrow saying you've done it."

"But you won't leave to-day," said Hartledon, entreatingly, feeling an instant prevision that with the departure of Thomas Carr all his courage would ignominiously desert him.

"I must go. You know I told you last night that my stay could only be four-and-twenty hours. You can accomplish it whilst I am here, if you like, and get it over; the longer a nauseous medicine is held to the lips the more difficult it is to swallow it. You say you are going to ride with Lady Maude presently; let that be your opportunity."

And get it over! Words that sounded as emanc.i.p.ation in Val's ear. But somehow he did not accomplish it in that ride. Excuses were on his lips five hundred times, but his hesitating lips never formed them. He really was on the point of speaking; at least he said so to himself; when Mr.

Hillary overtook them on horseback, and rode with them some distance.

After that, Maude put her horse to a canter, and so they reached home.

"Well?" said Mr. Carr.

"Not yet," answered Hartledon; "there was no opportunity."

"My suggestion was to make your opportunity."

"And so I will. I'll speak to her either to-night or to-morrow. She chose to ride fast to-day; and Hillary joined us part of the way. Don't look as if you doubted me, Carr: I shall be sure to speak."

"Will he?" thought Thomas Carr, as he took his departure by the evening train, having promised to run down the following Sat.u.r.day for a few hours. "It is an even bet, I think. Poor Val!"

Poor Val indeed! Vacillating, attractive, handsome Val! shrinking, sensitive Val! The nauseous medicine was never taken. And when the Ashtons returned to the Rectory on the Friday night he had not spoken.

And the very day of their return a rumour reached his ear that Mrs.

Ashton's health was seriously if not fatally shattered, and she was departing immediately for the South of France.

CHAPTER XVI.

BETWEEN THE TWO.

Not in the Rectory drawing-room, but in a pretty little sitting-room attached to her bed-chamber, where the temperature was regulated, and no draughts could penetrate, reclined Mrs. Ashton. Her invalid gown sat loosely upon her shrunken form, her delicate, lace cap shaded a fading face. Anne sat by her side in all her loveliness, ostensibly working; but her fingers trembled, and her face looked flushed and pained.

It was the morning after their return, and Mrs. Graves had called in to see Mrs. Ashton--gossiping Mrs. Graves, who knew all that took place in the parish, and a great deal of what never did take place. She had just been telling it all unreservedly in her hard way; things that might be said, and things that might as well have been left unsaid. She went out leaving a whirr and a buzz behind her and an awful sickness of desolation upon one heart.

"Give me my little writing-case, Anne," said Mrs. Ashton, waking up from a reverie and sitting forward on her sofa.

Anne took the pretty toy from the side-table, opened it, and laid it on the table before her mother.

"Is it nothing I can write for you, mamma?"

"No, child."

Anne bent her hot face over her work again. It had not occurred to her that it could concern herself; and Mrs. Ashton wrote a few rapid lines:

"My Dear Percival,

"Can you spare me a five-minutes' visit? I wish to speak with you. We go away again on Monday.

"Ever sincerely yours,

"Catherine Ashton."

She folded it, enclosed it in an envelope, and addressed it to the Earl of Hartledon. Pushing away the writing-table, she held out the note to her daughter.

"Seal it for me, Anne. I am tired. Let it go at once."

"Mamma!" exclaimed Anne, as her eye caught the address. "Surely you are not writing to him! You are not asking him to come here?"

"You see that I am writing to him, Anne. And it is to ask him to come here. My dear, you may safely leave me to act according to my own judgment. But as to what Mrs. Graves has said, I don't believe a word of it."

"I scarcely think I do," murmured Anne; a smile hovering on her troubled countenance, like sunshine after rain.

Anne had the taper alight, and the wax held to it, the note ready in her hand, when the room-door was thrown open by Mrs. Ashton's maid.

"Lord Hartledon."

He came in in a hurried manner, talking fast, making too much fuss; it was unlike his usual quiet movements, and Mrs. Ashton noticed it. As he shook hands with her, she held the note before him.