Part 35 (2/2)
”You may trust me to the fullest extent; and tell me, what was your business with Lutrell?”
”You shall know all. Indeed, I have no desire to keep secrets from you.”
It was somewhat of a hazardous speech, particularly in the way it was uttered; but she received it with a very sweet smile, and he went on: ”My journey had for its object to see this Mr. Luttrell, and induce him to accept a trustees.h.i.+p to a deed.”
”For this child?”
”Yes; the same.”
”But she is his daughter, is she not?”
”No; he had but one child, the boy I spoke of.”
”Who told you so? Luttrell himself, perhaps, or some of his people. At all events, do you believe it?”
He was a good deal startled by the sharp, quick, peremptory tone she now spoke in, so like her wonted manner, but so widely unlike her late mood of captivating softness, and for a second or two he did not answer.
”Tell me frankly, do you believe it?” cried she.
”I see no reason to disbelieve it,” was his reply.
”Is the boy older than this girl?” asked she, quickly.
”I should say so. Yes, certainly. I think so, at least.”
”And I am almost as certain he is not,” said she, in the same determined tone. ”Now for another point. My brother Vyner is about to make a settlement on this girl; is it not so?”
”Yes; I have instructions to prepare a deed.”
”And do you believe--is it a thing that your experience warrants you to believe--that he contemplates this for the child of Heaven knows whom, found Heaven knows where? Tell me that!”
”It is strange, no doubt, and it surprised me greatly, and at first I couldn't credit it.”
”Nor you don't now! No, no, Mr. M'Kinlay, 'don't be a churl of your confidence. This girl is a Luttrell; confess it?”
”On my honour, I believe she is not.”
”Then I take it they are cleverer folk than I thought them, for they seem to have deceived you.”
”We shall not do it, Sir, in the time,” cried the postilion from his saddle, ”unless we start at once.”
”Yes, yes, I am coming. If you would write to me, Miss Courtenay, any of your doubts--if you would allow me to write to you.”
”What for, Sir? I have no doubts. I don't certainly see how all this came about; nor--not having Mr. Grenfell's acquaintance, who was with my brother--am I likely to find out; but I know quite as much as I care to know.”
”You suspect--I see what you suspect,” said Mr. M'Kinlay, hoping by one clever dash to achieve the full measure of her confidence.
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