Only One Love, or Who Was the Heir Part 67

Lady Bell nodded.

"Yes, that just suits me. Give me a lady for good taste! And now choose the ornaments. There is the jewel-box."

Laura chose the set of rubies and diamonds, and Lady Bell smiled again.

"I shall look rather Spanish. Never mind. Let us try them."

With deft and gentle hands Laura helped her to dress, and Lady Bell nodded approval.

"Am I ready?"

Laura hesitated a moment.

"Will your ladyship wear the pendant?"

Lady Bell glanced in the gla.s.s.

"Ah, I see, you think that is rather too much against the rosebuds. You are right. Take it off, please. Thanks. Put the key of the jewel-box in your pocket. Stay! there is a chain for you to wear it on;" and she took out a small gold chain. "You can keep that as your own."

Laura Treherne flushed, and she inclined her head gratefully.

Lady Bell was relieved; her last maid used to overwhelm her with thanks.

"And now I will go down. By the way, will you please tell Simc.o.x--that's the butler--that the gentlemen will want Lafitte, at least, Mr. Newcombe will. I don't know what Mr. Stephen Davenant drinks. What's the matter?"

she broke off to inquire, for she heard Laura stumble and fall against the wardrobe.

There was a moment's pause; then, calmly enough, Laura said:

"My foot caught in your ladyship's dress, I think."

"Have you hurt yourself?" asked Lady Bell, kindly. "You have gone quite pale! Here, take some of this sal-volatile."

But Laura declined, respectfully. It was a mere nothing, and she would be more careful of alarming her ladyship for the future.

Lady Bell looked at her curiously. The quiet, self-contained manner, so free from nervousness or embarra.s.sment, interested her.

She stopped her as Laura was leaving the room.

"We haven't fixed upon a name for you yet," she said.

"No, my lady; any name will do."

"It is a pity to change yours--it is a pretty one."

"Will Mary Burns do, my lady? It was my mother's name."

"Very well," said Lady Bell; "I will tell Mrs. Fellowes that you will be known by that."

"That girl has a history, I know," she thought, as she went downstairs.

Punctual almost to the minute, Mrs. Davenant's brougham arrived.

The evenings had drawn in, and a lamp was burning in the hall; and a small fire made the dining-room comfortable.

Lady Bell welcomed Una most affectionately.

"Now we will have a really enjoyable evening," she said. "I hate dinner parties, and if I had my way, would never give nor go to another one. If it were only a little colder, we'd sit round the fire and bake chestnuts. Have you ever done that, Wild Bird?"

"Often," said Una, with a quiet smile, and something like a sigh, as she thought of the long winter evenings in the cot. How long ago they seemed, almost unreal, as if they had never happened.

"Oh, Una is very accomplished," said Jack; "I believe she could make coffee if she tried."

Very snug and comfortable the dining-room looked. Lady Bell had dispensed with one of the footmen, and had evidently determined to make the meal as homely and unceremonious as possible.

Never, perhaps, had the butler seen a merrier party. Even Stephen was genial and humorous; indeed he seemed to exert himself in an extraordinary fashion. Lady Bell had given him Una to take in, and he was most attentive and entertaining--so much that Jack, who was sitting opposite, and next to Lady Bell, felt amused and interested at the change which seemed to have come over him.

Could he have seen the workings of the subtle mind concealed behind the smiling exterior, he would have felt very much less at his ease; for even now Stephen was plotting how best he could mold the material round him to serve his purpose, and while the laugh was lingering on his smooth lips, his heart was burning with hate and jealousy of the rival who sat opposite.

For it had come to this, that he desired Una, and not only for the wealth of which he had robbed her, but for herself. As deeply as it was possible for one of his nature he loved the innocent, unsuspecting girl who sat beside him.

Tonight, as he looked at the beautiful face and marked each fleeting expression that flitted like sunshine over it: as he listened to the musical voice, and felt the touch of her dress as it brushed his arm, a pa.s.sionate longing seized and mastered him, and he felt that he would risk all of which he was wrongfully possessed to win her--ah, and if she were, indeed, only the daughter of a common woodman.

"Curse him!" he murmured over his wine gla.s.s, as his eyes rested on Jack's handsome face. "If he had not crossed my path, she would have been mine ere now; no matter, I will strike him out of it, as if he were a viper in my road."

Meanwhile, quite unconscious of Stephen's generous sentiments, Jack went on with his dinner, enjoying it thoroughly, and as happy as it is given to a mortal to be.

Presently the conversation turned upon their plans for the autumn.

"What are we all going to do?" said Lady Bell. "You, I suppose, Mr.

Davenant, will go down to your place in Wealdshire--what is it called?"

"Hurst Leigh," said Stephen, quietly. "Yes, I must go down there, I ought to have been there before now, but I find so many attractions in town," and he smiled at Una.

"And you, my dear?" said Lady Bell to Mrs. Davenant.

"My mother will go down with me," said Stephen.

Mrs. Davenant glanced at him nervously.

"And that means Miss Wild Bird, too, I suppose?" remarked Lady Bell.

"If Miss Una will honor us," said Stephen, with an inclination of the head to Una. "Yes, we shall make quite a family party. You will join us, of course, Jack?"

Jack, who had looked up rather grim at the foregoing, bit his lip.

"I don't quite know," he said, gravely.

"Surely you will not let the poachers have all the birds this year, Jack!" said Stephen, brightly. "Besides my mother will be quite lost without you."