Part 45 (2/2)

So she answered the letter in a few words, telling him if he really wished what he said, she would discuss the prudence of such a friends.h.i.+p with him.

This letter of hers fell into the hands of Lady Marion. She looked at the fine, beautiful, clear handwriting.

”Lance, this is from a lady,” she said.

When he took it from her his face flushed, for he knew the hand.

”It is from a lady,” she repeated.

”It is on business,” he replied, coldly, putting the envelope aside; and, to his intense delight, Lady Marion forgot it.

He was to go and see her. It was wrong to be so pleased, he knew, but he did not even try to hide his delight over it.

When should he go? He should count the hours--he could not wait longer than to-morrow. Would she be willing; or would she not? How long the hours seemed, yet they pa.s.sed, and once more he was at the Cedars.

CHAPTER XLII.

BECOMING SUSPICIOUS.

So they made the second great mistake of their lives. These two, who had been married lovers, fancied they could be friends. If it had not been so sad and so pitiful, it would have been amusing to have heard the conditions of that friends.h.i.+p--they were as numerous as the preliminaries of an article of peace. They made all arrangements; their friends.h.i.+p was to be of the purest and most platonic nature; there was to be nothing said which would remind them of the past; he was to shake hands with her when he came and when he went; he might pay her a visit twice or three times a week; if they met, they were to be on friendly terms; they would discuss art, literature, and music--anything and everything except their own story; they were to take an interest in each other's lives and fortunes.

”I shall take such a pride in your career, Leone,” said Lord Chandos, in all good faith; ”it will be the dearest part of my life.”

She held up one white finger with a smile; that was trespa.s.sing on forbidden ground. He must not break the new code of friends.h.i.+p by saying such things.

”We are friends, not lovers, Lord Chandos,” she said, gently; ”you will annoy me if you forget that. The dearer part of your life is at home.”

He apologized for the words.

”I mean,” he said, ”that I shall take the keenest interest in your career, and watch it with pride.”

”That is right, as I shall yours, Lord Chandos. I am proud of you, I am proud when I read your speeches; it seems to me no other man ever spoke so well. I am proud when I read that the rising man of the day is Lord Chandos, that England looks to Lord Chandos as a great power and a promising statesman. Ah, yes, I am proud of you when I read those things. Your face, your eager, hopeful eyes rise before me, and I say to myself, 'Ah, yes, he is a genius, and the world knows it.' It is pleasant to have true friends, such as we shall be to each other.”

”Yes,” he had answered her, with a sigh; ”we should have been foolish indeed, Leone, to have deprived ourselves of this, the only consolation left in life for either of us. We shall be more happy as friends, Leone; it would have been too horrible to have been always apart.”

They hedged themselves round with precautions; they were to be so prudent; they were not to address each other as Lance and Leone; they were never to sing old songs together; he was not to go behind the scenes in the theater, he was not to wait for her in the evening. She said to him laughingly, that they ought to have these conditions of friends.h.i.+p written down as they write down the articles of war or the preliminaries of peace.

”We ought to have parchment strong as parchment can be; but, Lord Chandos, we must keep to our rules, no matter what happens.”

So they intended, and neither of them had the faintest idea of ever deviating from the rules laid down. It was better than nothing, spending a few hours with her each week was refres.h.i.+ng as an oasis in a desert; he eagerly looked forward to those days on which he was permitted to call, and before long these visits became chiefly the event of his life--he thought of little else.

So it gradually came about that the stronger nature gained the ascendency, the stronger soul gained the upper hand in his life. The love of Leone had always been by far the strongest element in his life; it had been set aside by a series of clever maneuvers, but now it resumed its sway. He did not intend it; he was weak enough and foolish enough to think that the prudent friends.h.i.+p could replace mad love, and he was not very long before he found out his mistake. But at first all went well--her praise stimulated him, he gave loose to the fiery eloquence that was natural to him. Knowing that she would read and criticise every word, he took more pride and pleasure in his public life than he had ever done before; he liked to hear her criticisms on his opinions and actions; he was delighted with the interest she took in his works.

At times the visits he paid were all occupied with the discussion of these details. He would tell her of some great oration or speech that he intended to make on some important measure, she would talk it over to him, and her marvelous intelligence, her bright wit and originality always threw some new light on the matter, some more picturesque view.

In this she differed from Lady Marion, who was more timid and retiring, who looked upon everything connected with public life as a dreadful ordeal, who, fond as she was of literature, could not read a newspaper, who, dearly as she loved her husband, could not interest herself in his career.

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