Only One Love, or Who Was the Heir Part 69

"You mean Mr. Ralph Davenant," said Stephen, calmly, and with an air of sadness. "I am sorry to say that he left everything which he possessed to a less worthy person--to me."

Lady Bell looked at him inquiringly.

"To me," he repeated, "and poor Jack was--well, disinherited, and left penniless. It is of him I think when I say that I am anxious about them; naturally, I think of him. Miss Rolfe is a friend of my mother's, and has been used to a straitened life; but poor Jack does not know what poverty means, and in his ignorance may drift into an entanglement which may embitter her life. No man in the world is less fitted for love in a cottage, and nothing to pay the rent, than Jack Newcombe. You, who have seen something of him, must have remarked his easy-going, careless nature, his utter ignorance of the value of money, his unsuitableness for a life of poverty and privation."

Lady Bell's heart beat fast.

"But--but--" she said, "you have plenty."

"Of which Jack will not take one penny. You see he is as proud as he is poor."

"I like him for that," murmured Lady Bell.

"Yes, so do I; though it pains and grieves me. If Jack would permit me to help him, Lady Bell, he might marry Una Rolfe tomorrow; but as it is, I fear, I am anxious. Another man would be wiser, but Jack has no idea of prudence, and would plunge head first into all the misery of such a union without a thought of the morrow."

"And you--you think he loves her," murmured Lady Bell; and she waited for an answer as a man on his trial might wait for the verdict of the jury.

Stephen smiled. He could read Lady Bell's heart as if it were an open book.

"Loves her! No, certainly not--not yet. He is amused and entertained, but love has not come yet."

"And she?" asked Lady Bell, anxiously, her eyes fixed on Una's face.

Stephen smiled again.

"No, not yet. She is ignorant of the meaning of the word. I have taken some trouble to arrive at the truth, and I am sure of what I say. It is well for her that she is not, for anything like a serious engagement would be simply madness. Poor Jack! His future lies so plainly before him, and if he would follow it, the rest of his life might be happiness itself."

"You mean that he should marry for money," said Lady Bell, coldly.

"No, not for money alone," murmured Stephen. "Jack is too high-minded to be guilty of such meanness; but is it not possible to marry for love and money, too, Lady Bell?"

Lady Bell turned her head aside; her heart beating fast. The voice of the tempter sounded like music in her ear. Why should not he marry for love as well as money? She had both. She loved him pa.s.sionately, and she would pour her money at his feet to do as he liked with; to squander and make ducks and drakes of, if he would but give her a little love in return.

As she looked across the room at him, that awful, wistful longing which only a woman who loves with all her heart can feel, took possession of her and mastered her.

"Why do you tell me this?" she asked, sharply turning her face, pale and working.

"Because," murmured Stephen, "because I have Jack's interest so much at heart that I am bold enough to ask for aid where I know it can be of avail."

"Do you mean that you ask _me_?" she said, tremulously. "What can I do?"

"Much, everything," he whispered, his head bent low, almost to her ear.

"Ask yourself, dear Lady Bell, and you will understand me. Let me be plain and straightforward, even at the risk of offending you. There was a time, not many months ago, when I and his best friends thought Jack had made a choice at once happy and wise."

Lady Bell rose and moved to and fro, and then sank down again trembling with agitation.

"You mean that--that he was falling in love with me?"

Stephen inclined his head with lowered eyes.

"It is true," he said. "You cannot fail to have seen what all observed."

And he went on quickly--"And but for this fancy--this pa.s.sing fancy--all would have been well. Lady Bell, I am speaking more openly than I ever have spoken to woman before. I am risking offending you, but I do so from the affection which I bear my cousin. Lady Bell, I implore you to help me in saving him from a step which will plunge him into life-long misery. He is totally unfitted to battle with the world; married wisely and well, he would be a happy and contented man; married unwisely and badly, no one can picture the future."

Lady Bell rose, her face pale, her eyes gleaming under the strain which she was enduring.

"Don't say any more," she said; "I--I cannot bear it. You have guessed my secret; I can feel that. Yes, I would save him if I could, and if you are sure that--that there is no engagement----"

"There is none," said Stephen, lying smoothly. "There can be none; the idea is preposterous."

Lady Bell moved away as he spoke, and turned over some book on the table to conceal her agitation, and Stephen, humming a popular hymn tune, crossed the room and looked down at Jack and Una with a benedictory smile, as if he was blessing them.

"Are you aware of the time, and that Lady Bell's hall porter is uttering maledictions for our tardiness?" he said, playfully.

Jack looked at his watch.

"By Jove! No idea it was so late. Are you ready, Mrs. Davenant?"

Mrs. Davenant woke from a sleep, and she and Una went upstairs.

"I see you have a new maid," she said, when they came down again. "What a superior-looking young girl."

"Is she not?" said Lady Bell, absently. "She is more than superior, she is interesting. She has a history."

Stephen, standing by, folding and unfolding his opera hat, smiled.

"Very interesting; but take care, Lady Bell; I am always suspicious of interesting people with a history."

As he spoke, a pale, dark face looked down upon him from the upper landing for a moment, then disappeared.

"You will come with us, Stephen?" said Mrs. Davenant, nervously.

"No, thanks. I should like the walk. Good-night," and he kissed her dutifully, and shook hands with Jack and Lady Bell.

"Going to walk?" cried Mrs. Davenant. "It is very chilly, and you've only that thin overcoat."

"I've a scarf somewhere--where is it?" said Stephen.

Una stooped, and picked up a white scarf.

"Here it is," she said, laughing, and all innocently she threw it round his neck.

"Will you tie it, please?" said Stephen, in an ordinary tone, and Una, laughing still, tied it.

Stephen stood motionless, his eyes cast down; he was afraid to raise them lest the pa.s.sion blazing in them should be read by all there.

"Thanks. I cannot catch cold now," he said, as he took her hand and held it for a moment.

He put them into the brougham, and under the pretext of arranging her shawl, touched her hand once again; then he stood in the chilly street and watched the brougham till it disappeared in the distance.