Part 46 (2/2)

'Do you think it has?' said Claude.

'Trust my word, you will hear great news to-morrow. And that reminds me--can you come here to-morrow morning? Travers is going--I drive him to meet the coach at the town, and you were talking of wanting to see the new windows in the cathedral: it will be a good opportunity.

And dine here afterwards to talk over the adventures.'

'Thank you--that last I cannot do. The Baron was saying it would be the first time of having us all together.'

'Very well, besides the great news. I wish I was going back with you; it is a tame conclusion, only to go to bed. If I was but to be on the scene of action to-morrow. Tell the Baron that--no, use your influence to get me invited to dinner on Sat.u.r.day--I really want to speak to him.'

'Very well,' said Claude, 'I'll do my best. Good-night.'

'Good-night,' said the Marquis. 'You have both done wonders. Still, I wish it was to come over again.'

'Few people would say so,' said Lily, as they drove off.

'Few would say so if they thought so,' said Claude. 'I have been quite admiring the way Rotherwood has gone on--enjoying the fun as if he was n.o.body--just as Reginald might, making other people happy, and making no secret of his satisfaction in it all.'

'Very free from affectation and nonsense,' said Lily, 'as William said of him last Christmas. You were in a fine fright about his speech, Claude.'

'More than I ought to have been. I should have known that he is too simple-minded and straightforward to say anything but just what he ought. What a nice person that Miss Aylmer is.'

'Is not she, Claude? I was very glad you had her for a neighbour.

Happy the children who have her for a governess. How sensible and gentle she seems. The Westons--But oh! Claude, tell me one thing, did you hear--'

'Well, what?'

'I am ashamed to say. That preposterous report about papa. Why, Rotherwood himself seems to believe it, and Mr. Carrington began to congratulate--'

'The public has bestowed so many ladies on the Baron, that I wonder it is not tired,' said Claude. 'It is time it should patronise William instead.'

'Rotherwood is not the public,' said Lily, 'and he is the last person to say anything impertinent of papa. And I myself heard papa call her Alethea, which he never used to do. Claude, what do you think?'

After a long pause Claude slowly replied, 'Think? Why, I think Miss Weston must be a person of great courage. She begins the world as a grandmother, to say nothing of her eldest daughter and son being considerably her seniors.'

'I do not believe it,' said Lily. 'Do you, Claude?'

'I cannot make up my mind--it is too amazing. My hair is still standing on end. When it comes down I may be able to tell you something.'

Such were the only answers that Lily could extract from him. He did not sufficiently disbelieve the report to treat it with scorn, yet he did not sufficiently credit it to resign himself to such a state of things.

On coming home Lily found Emily and Jane in her room, eagerly discussing the circ.u.mstances which, to their prejudiced eyes, seemed strong confirmation. While their tongues were in full career the door opened and Eleanor appeared. She told them it was twelve o'clock, turned Jane out of the room, and made Emily and Lily promise not to utter another syllable that night.

CHAPTER XXVI: THE CRISIS

'”Is this your care of the nest?” cried he, ”It comes of your gadding abroad,” said she.'

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