Part 53 (2/2)
”Your sister? Psha! I am not your sister, Mr. Finn. Nor, were I so, should I fail to remember that I have a dearer brother to whom my faith is pledged. Look here. Within the last three weeks Oswald has sacrificed everything to his father, because he was determined that Mr. Kennedy should have the money which he thought was due to my husband. He has enabled my father to do what he will with Saulsby.
Papa will never hurt him;--I know that. Hard as papa is with him, he will never hurt Oswald's future position. Papa is too proud to do that. Violet has heard what Oswald has done; and now that he has nothing of his own to offer her for the future but his bare t.i.tle, now that he has given papa power to do what he will with the property, I believe that she would accept him instantly. That is her disposition.”
Phineas again paused a moment before he replied. ”Let him try,” he said.
”He is away,--in Brussels.”
”Send to him, and bid him return. I will be patient, Lady Laura. Let him come and try, and I will bide my time. I confess that I have no right to interfere with him if there be a chance for him. If there is no chance, my right is as good as that of any other.”
There was something in this which made Lady Laura feel that she could not maintain her hostility against this man on behalf of her brother;--and yet she could not force herself to be other than hostile to him. Her heart was sore, and it was he that had made it sore. She had lectured herself, schooling herself with mental sackcloth and ashes, rebuking herself with heaviest censures from day to day, because she had found herself to be in danger of regarding this man with a perilous love; and she had been constant in this work of penance till she had been able to a.s.sure herself that the sackcloth and ashes had done their work, and that the danger was past. ”I like him still and love him well,” she had said to herself with something almost of triumph, ”but I have ceased to think of him as one who might have been my lover.” And yet she was now sick and sore, almost beside herself with the agony of the wound, because this man whom she had been able to throw aside from her heart had also been able so to throw her aside. And she felt herself constrained to rebuke him with what bitterest words she might use. She had felt it easy to do this at first, on her brother's score. She had accused him of treachery to his friends.h.i.+p,--both as to Oswald and as to herself.
On that she could say cutting words without subjecting herself to suspicion even from herself. But now this power was taken away from her, and still she wished to wound him. She desired to taunt him with his old fickleness, and yet to subject herself to no imputation.
”Your right!” she said. ”What gives you any right in the matter?”
”Simply the right of a fair field, and no favour.”
”And yet you come to me for favour,--to me, because I am her friend.
You cannot win her yourself, and think I may help you! I do not believe in your love for her. There! If there were no other reason, and I could help you, I would not, because I think your heart is a sham heart. She is pretty, and has money--”
”Lady Laura!”
”She is pretty, and has money, and is the fas.h.i.+on. I do not wonder that you should wish to have her. But, Mr. Finn, I believe that Oswald really loves her;--and that you do not. His nature is deeper than yours.”
He understood it all now as he listened to the tone of her voice, and looked into the lines of her face. There was written there plainly enough that spretae injuria formae of which she herself was conscious, but only conscious. Even his eyes, blind as he had been, were opened,--and he knew that he had been a fool.
”I am sorry that I came to you,” he said.
”It would have been better that you should not have done so,” she replied.
”And yet perhaps it is well that there should be no misunderstanding between us.”
”Of course I must tell my brother.”
He paused but for a moment, and then he answered her with a sharp voice, ”He has been told.”
”And who told him?”
”I did. I wrote to him the moment that I knew my own mind. I owed it to him to do so. But my letter missed him, and he only learned it the other day.”
”Have you seen him since?”
”Yes;--I have seen him.”
”And what did he say? How did he take it? Did he bear it from you quietly?”
”No, indeed;” and Phineas smiled as he spoke.
”Tell me, Mr. Finn; what happened? What is to be done?”
”Nothing is to be done. Everything has been done. I may as well tell you all. I am sure that for the sake of me, as well as of your brother, you will keep our secret. He required that I should either give up my suit, or that I should,--fight him. As I could not comply with the one request, I found myself bound to comply with the other.”
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