It May Be True Volume Ii Part 8

Ere long the silence grew oppressive; the crumpling of the paper as Mr.

Linchmore turned it in his hand annoyed and irritated her; her thoughts were still half struggling with the past; she _must_ bury that, and bring them forcibly back to the present time, so she spoke; but try as she would she could not do so without showing a little irritation of manner.

"The paper appears to engross your attention entirely, Mr Linchmore.

Have you found anything so very interesting in it?"

He looked up in surprise, then quietly laid it on the table, as he replied, "Perhaps I did not speak, as I have rather unfortunate news for you, 'Lady Emily'--Mrs. Linchmore's riding horse--has gone dead lame."

"Lame!" exclaimed Mrs. Linchmore in a vexatious tone of voice. "It must be something very sudden then; she was perfectly well the last time I rode her, there was not the slightest symptom of lameness about her then."

"That was some time ago," rejoined her husband.

"Only a few days, or a week at the utmost. What is the matter with her?

or what has caused the lameness?"

"A nail has been accidentally run into her foot in shoeing. There has been great carelessness no doubt."

"It is always the case that whenever I wish to ride or drive something happens to prevent me, for the last two or three months I have noticed it. What is the use of having servants if one cannot trust them, or horses either, when they are never fit to be ridden?"

"There are other horses in the stable, Isabella, would carry you just as well as Lady Emily, but you never will ride them."

Mrs. Linchmore was not exactly a timid horsewoman, but she was not courageous enough to ride a strange horse, whose temper and habits she was unacquainted with. She had ridden the mare constantly for the last five years, and knew her temper well, and after the first canter was over all nervousness was gone, and she could talk and laugh and ride without fear, or the slight timidity she might have felt at first starting.

"I promised to ride into Standale with Mr. Vavasour," said she.

"Shall I order the bay to be brought round for you, Isabella? You will find him even quieter than Lady Emily."

"You know I hate strange horses, Mr. Linchmore. I wonder at your proposing such a thing. After being accustomed to one horse for so long, I should be nervous."

"I will ride with you with pleasure," was the reply, "and give you confidence if I can, and see no accident happens."

But no, her husband's escort was very different to the promised pleasure she had looked forward to with Mr. Vavasour.

"Thank you," replied she coldly, "but I shall stay at home, and give up all idea of riding until my horse gets well."

"Very well, Vavasour can ride into Standale with me if he chooses, I am starting for it in half an hour. By-the-by, what report did Bernard give of Miss Neville this morning?"

"Nothing very much the matter, I believe," said she carelessly, "simply a sprain caused by some folly or another."

"I am glad it is nothing more serious; she looks a delicate girl."

"Some people always look so. I believe she is strong enough; we were always from the first led to expect a rather fragile person."

This was an unwise speech of Mrs. Linchmore's, as it recalled Mrs.

Elrington at once to her husband's mind, and he asked--

"Have you received any reply to the letter you wrote to Mrs. Elrington, Isabella?"

"Yes. Miss Neville gave me a message to the effect that she did not intend," said she sarcastically, "honouring our poor house with a visit."

"Did she write to Miss Neville?"

"I fancy not. I think it was mentioned by Mrs. Neville, in a letter she wrote from Ashleigh."

"And Mrs. Elrington has never answered your letter?"

"No. I suppose she thought the message good enough for us."

There was no quivering of the lip, no tell-tale blood in her cheeks, nothing to betray the falsehood she was telling, save her eyes, and those she still bent down. She could not have met her husband's gaze.

"Strange," murmured he, "that she should so long keep aloof from us. I should have thought she would have wished to heal up old quarrels."

"You know her not," was the reply. "I told you she would not come, and implored you, almost, not to ask me to write to her."

"It was my fault you wrote, and I cannot help feeling sorry at her discourtsey; it is so different from what I should have thought she would have done. I liked the little I saw of Mrs. Elrington, she was a true Englishwoman. I wonder what she disliked me for. I suppose she did dislike me?" asked he.

"Yes, thoroughly. You supplanted her son."

"But you never cared for him, Isabella?" and this time he waited for the eyes to be raised to his.

But they were not. Mrs. Linchmore bent lower still over her work, so that not only the eyes, but the face was almost hidden. She seemed to have made some mistake, for, with a slight hasty exclamation, she took the scissors and cut out, hurriedly, what a few moments before she had been so busy with.

Again he repeated the question, but not sternly, only sorrowfully and slowly, as if he almost feared the answer, or guessed what it would be.

"You never cared for him, Isabella?"

But the emotion or embarra.s.sment had pa.s.sed away, and although Mrs.

Linchmore did not look up to meet his gaze, now so searchingly bent on her, she laid down her work and patted the head of the lap-dog lying at her feet.

"I liked him as I do Fido," replied she, perhaps a little mockingly. "He was a pretty plaything."

But the answer did not satisfy Mr. Linchmore. He withdrew his eyes from her face and sighed. Did he doubt her? Alas! a strange, sad thought had long filled his mind, and would not be chased away.

"I am glad you did not _love_ him, Isabella," was all he said.

And then he sat silent for some time. At length he spoke again, somewhat suddenly. "To revert to Miss Neville," he said. "I feared her illness might be caused from dulness or ennui. She is so much alone--too much for one so young. Miss Tremlow, even, hinted at it to me the very first day she came downstairs; but I do not see what else is to be done, with these young men in the house."

"I invited her down the other day, but she would not come."

"I am glad she did not. Why did you ask her?"

"You told me to yourself, Mr. Linchmore. You surely cannot have forgotten it; and besides, we promised to treat her more as a young friend than as a governess."

"True," he replied. "I now regret we ever gave such a promise. It would be far better for Miss Neville, for although we treat her as a friend, who amongst our numerous acquaintances will? They do not know her as we do, and will simply treat her as a governess, nothing more. I neither like Miss Strickland's apparent haughtiness, which amounts to rudeness, or Vavasour's attentions, which almost amount to a flirtation with her."

"The first is unaccountable to me; but the latter--what harm can there be in that?" replied Mrs. Linchmore.

"To Miss Neville there might be harm. She might lose her heart to him, for she is no flirt; _he is_," said he, decidedly, and his wife could not attempt to contradict him, "and would as soon break her heart as not; perhaps be a little proud of it, and certainly think less about it than he would at breaking his horse's neck in leaping a fence."