Elster's Folly Part 34

"See, Percival! I was writing to ask you to call upon me."

Anne had put out the light, and her hand was in Lord Hartledon's before she well knew anything, save that her heart was beating tumultuously.

Mrs. Ashton made a place for him on the sofa, and Anne quietly left the room.

"I should have been here earlier," he began, "but I had the steward with me on business; it is little enough I have attended to since my brother's death. Dear Mrs. Ashton! I grieve to hear this poor account of you. You are indeed looking ill."

"I am so ill, Percival, that I doubt whether I shall ever be better in this world. It is my last chance, this going away to a warmer place until winter has pa.s.sed."

He was bending towards her in earnest sympathy, all himself again; his dark blue eyes very tender, his pleasant features full of concern as he gazed on her face. And somehow, looking at that attractive countenance, Mrs. Ashton's doubts went from her.

"But what I have said is to you alone," she resumed. "My husband and children do not see the worst, and I refrain from telling them. A little word of confidence between us, Val."

"I hope and trust you may come back cured!" he said, very fervently. "Is it the fever that has so shattered you?"

"It is the result of it. I have never since been able to recover strength, but have become weaker and more weak. And you know I was in ill health before. We leave on Monday morning for Cannes."

"For Cannes?" he exclaimed.

"Yes. A place not so warm as some I might have gone to; but the doctors say that will be all the better. It is not heat I need; only shelter from our cold northern winds until I can get a little strength into me.

There's nothing the matter with my lungs; indeed, I don't know that anything is the matter with me except this terrible weakness."

"I suppose Anne goes with you?"

"Oh yes. I could not go without Anne. The doctor will see us settled there, and then he returns."

A thought crossed Lord Hartledon: how pleasant if he and Anne could have been married, and have made this their wedding tour. He did not speak it: Mrs. Ashton would have laughed at his haste.

"How long shall you remain away?" he asked.

"Ah, I cannot tell you. I may not live to return. If all goes well--that is, if there should be a speedy change for the better, as the medical men who have been attending me think there may be--I shall be back perhaps in April or May. Val--I cannot forget the old familiar name, you see--"

"I hope you never will forget it," he warmly interposed.

"I wanted very particularly to see you. A strange report was brought here this morning and I determined to mention it to you. You know what an old-fashioned, direct way I have of doing things; never choosing a roundabout road if I can take a straight one. This note was a line asking you to call upon me," she added, taking it from her lap, where it had been lying, and tossing it on to the table, whilst her hearer, his conscience rising up, began to feel a very little uncomfortable. "We heard you had proposed marriage to Lady Maude Kirton."

Lord Hartledon's face became crimson. "Who on earth could have invented that?" cried he, having no better answer at hand.

"Mrs. Graves mentioned it to me. She was dining at Hartledon last week, and the countess-dowager spoke about it openly."

Mrs. Ashton looked at him; and he, confused and taken aback, looked down on the carpet, devoutly wishing himself in the remote regions he had spoken of to Mr. Carr. Anywhere, so that he should never be seen or recognized again.

"What am I to do?" thought he. "I wish Mother Graves was hanged!"

"You do not speak, Percival!"

"Well, I--I was wondering what could have given rise to this," he stammered. "I believe the old dowager would like to see her daughter mistress of Hartledon: and suppose she gave utterance to her thoughts."

"Very strange that she should!" observed Mrs. Ashton.

"I think she's a little cracked sometimes," coughed Val; and, in truth, he now and then did think so. "I hope you have not told Anne?"

"I have told no one. And had I not felt sure it had no foundation, I should have told the doctor, not you. But Anne was in the room when Mrs.

Graves mentioned it."

"What a blessing it would be if Mrs. Graves were out of the parish!"

exclaimed Val, hotly. "I wonder Dr. Ashton keeps Graves on, with such a mother! No one ever had such a mischief-making tongue as hers."

"Percival, may I say something to you?" asked Mrs. Ashton, who was devouring him with her eyes. "Your manner would almost lead me to believe that there _is_ something in it. Tell me the truth; I can never be anything but your friend."

"Believe one thing, dear Mrs. Ashton--that I have no intention of marrying anyone but Anne; and I wish with all my heart and soul you'd give her to me to-day. Shut up with those two women, the one pretty, the other watching any chance word to turn it to her own use, I dare say the Mrs. Graveses of the place have talked, forgetting that Maude is my cousin. I believe I paid some attention to Maude because I was angry at being kept out of the Rectory; but my attentions meant nothing, upon my honour."

"Elster's folly, Val! Lady Maude may have thought they did."

"At any rate she knew of my engagement to Anne."

"Then there is nothing in it?"

"There shall be nothing in it," was the emphatic answer. "Anne was my first love, and she will be my last. You must promise to give her to me as soon as you return from Cannes."

"About that you must ask her father. I dare say he will do so."

Lord Hartledon rose from his seat; held Mrs. Ashton's hand between his whilst he said his adieu, and stooped to kiss her with a son's affection.

She was a little surprised to find it was his final farewell. They were not going to start until Monday. But Hartledon could not have risked that cross-questioning again; rather would he have sailed away for the savage territories at once. He went downstairs searching for Anne, and found her in the room where you first saw her--her own. She looked up with quite an affectation of surprise when he entered, although she had probably gone there to await him. The best of girls are human.

"You ran away, Anne, whilst mamma and I held our conference?"

"I hope it has been satisfactory," she answered demurely, not looking up, and wondering whether he suspected how violently her heart was beating.

"Partly so. The end was all right. Shall I tell it you?"

"The end! Yes, if you will," she replied unsuspectingly.

"The decision come to is, that a certain young friend of ours is to be converted, with as little delay as circ.u.mstances may permit, into Lady Hartledon."

Of course there came no answer except a succession of blushes. Anne's work, which she had carried with her, took all her attention just then.

"Can you guess her name, Anne?"

"I don't know. Is it Maude Kirton?"

He winced. "If you have been told that abominable rubbish, Anne, it is not necessary to repeat it. It's not so pleasant a theme that you need make a joke of it."

"Is it rubbish?" asked Anne, lifting her eyes.

"I think you ought to know that if any one does. But had anything happened, Anne, recollect it would have been your fault. You have been very cool to me of late. You forbid me the house for weeks and weeks; you went away for an indefinite period without letting me know, or giving me the chance of seeing you; and when the correspondence was at length renewed, your letters were cold and formal--quite different from what they used to be. It almost looks as if you wished to part from me."

Repentance was stealing over her: why had she ever doubted him?

"And now you are going away again! And although this interview may be our last for months, you scarcely deign to give me a word or a look of farewell."