Part 28 (2/2)

One consolation at least he had. Being a man, not without reason, p.r.o.ne to suspicion, he had a deep conviction that, for some reason, Richard Arden was opposed to his suit, and had already begun to work upon Miss Arden's mind to his prejudice. His best chance, then, he still thought, was to antic.i.p.ate that danger by a declaration. If that declaration could only be forgiven, and the little scene at old Mortlake garden door sponged out, might not his chances stand better far than before? Would not the past, though never spoken of, give meaning, fire, and melancholy to things else insignificant, and keep him always before her, and her alone, be his demeanour and language ever so reserved and cold, as an impa.s.sioned lover? Did not his knowledge of human nature a.s.sure him that these relations of mystery would, more than any other, favour his fortunes?

”That she should consign what has pa.s.sed, in a few impetuous moments, to oblivion and silence, is no unreasonable prayer, and one as easy to grant as to will it. She will think it over, and, for my part, I will meet her as if nothing had ever happened to change our trifling but friendly relations. I wish I knew what Richard Arden was about. I soon shall. Yes, I shall--I soon shall.”

An opportunity seemed to offer sooner even than he had hoped; for as he drove towards St. James's Street, pa.s.sing one of Richard Arden's clubs, he saw that young gentleman ascending the steps with Lord Wynderbroke.

Longcluse stopped his brougham, jumped out, and overtook Richard Arden in the hall, where he stood, taking his letters from the hall-porter.

”How d'ye do, again? I sha'n't detain you a minute. I have had a long talk with your father about business,” said Longcluse, seizing the topic most likely to secure a few minutes, and speaking very low. ”You can bring me into a room here, and I'll tell you all that is necessary in two minutes.”

”Certainly,” said Richard, yielding to his curiosity. ”I have only two or three minutes. I dine here with a friend, who is at this moment ordering dinner; so, you see, I am rather hurried.”

He opened a door, and looking in said--

”Yes, we shall be quite to ourselves here.”

Longcluse shut the door. There was no one to overhear them.

Richard Arden sat down on a sofa, and Mr. Longcluse threw himself into a chair.

”And what did he say?” asked Richard.

”They want to raise his interest on the Yorks.h.i.+re estate; and he says you won't help him; but that of course is your affair, and I declined, point-blank, to intervene in it. And before I go further, it strikes me, as it did to-day at Mortlake, that your manner to me has undergone a slight change.”

”Has it? I did not mean it, I a.s.sure you,” said Richard Arden, with a little laugh.

”Oh! yes, Arden, it _has_, and you must know it, and--pardon me--you must _intend_ it also; and now I want to know what I have done, or how I have hurt you, or who has been telling lies of me?”

”Nothing of all these, that I know of,” said Richard, with a cold little laugh.

”Well, of course, if you prefer it, you may decline an explanation. I must however, remind you, because it concerns my happiness, and possibly other interests dearer to me than my life, too nearly to be trifled with, that you heard all I said respecting your sister with the friendliest approbation and encouragement. You knew as much and as little about me then as you do now. I am not conscious of having said or done anything to warrant the slightest change in your feelings or opinion; and in your manner there _is_ a change, and a very decided change, and I tell you frankly I can't understand it.”

Thus directly challenged, Richard Arden looked at him hard for a moment.

He was balancing in his mind whether he should evade or accept the crisis. He preferred the latter.

”Well, I can only say I did not intend to convey anything by my manner; but, as you know, when there is anything in one's mind it is not always easy to prevent its affecting, as you say, one's manner. I am not sorry you have asked me, because I spoke without reflection the other day. No one should answer, I really think, for any one else, in ever so small a matter, in this world.”

”But you didn't--you spoke only for yourself. You simply promised me your friends.h.i.+p, your kind offices--you said, in fact, all I could have hoped for.”

”Yes, perhaps--yes, I may, I suppose I did. But don't you see, dear Longcluse, things may come to mind, on thinking over.”

”_What_ things?” demanded Longcluse quickly, with a sudden energy that called a flush to his temples; and fire gleamed for a moment from his deep-set, gloomy eyes.

”What things? Why, young ladies are not always the most intelligible problems on earth. I think you ought to know that; and really I do think, in such matters, it is far better that they should be left to themselves as much as possible; and I think, besides, that there are some difficulties that did not strike us. I mean, that I now see that there really are great difficulties--insuperable difficulties.”

”Can you define them?” said Longcluse coldly.

”I don't want to vex you, Longcluse, and I don't want to quarrel.”

”That's extremely kind of you.”

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