Part 20 (1/2)

”G.o.d bless you, my Heather!” he said. ”And now, child, listen to me. You must do whatever you think right. Her ladys.h.i.+p's away, Heather, 'hey!

nonny, nonny!'--her ladys.h.i.+p's away, and I won't be bullied about my own little girl. You do just what you think right.”

He knelt down as he spoke, bent over me, put his arm round my neck, pressed his lips to mine, and then hurried out of the room. I was just intending to go up to bed; I was longing for the quiet of my own chamber; I wanted intensely to put my treasured roses into water; I wanted to creep into bed and dream about Captain Carbury. I pined for the shelter of my little room, for the darkness, the peace. I should fall asleep presently, but until then I could think and think of the man who had said good words to me that day, of the man whom I should meet to-morrow. Of course, I would not marry him--no, not for the wide world; but I might think of him, I might--I made up my mind that I would.

The house was quite silent. I raised myself from the sofa, and walked as far as the fireplace; I bent down over the fire, then, raising myself, I caught my own reflection in the gla.s.s. The vision of a girl looked back at me from its mirrored depths--a girl with eyes like stars, lips slightly parted, a radiant face. Somebody came in quickly--who was it? I turned. Lord Hawtrey was at my side.

”I won't stay long, unless you give me leave,” he said. ”Lady Helen thought you would not mind seeing me, and your father is in the house--he is in the smoking-room; Lady Helen thinks you won't mind.”

”Sit down, won't you?” I said.

”Oh, no. I cannot sit while you stand.”

”But I am a young girl, and you are an old man,” I said. ”Do, please, sit down. You look very tired, too,” I added, and I gave him an affectionate glance, for I really quite liked him.

His face flushed uncomfortably when I called him an old man; but I could not by any possibility think of him in any other light.

”I cannot sit,” he said. ”Old or young, I must stand at the present moment. I thought to write to you, but her ladys.h.i.+p said, 'Better speak.' Have I your leave, Miss Grayson, to say a few words? Do you greatly mind?”

”They call me Dalrymple here,” I answered, speaking in a weary voice.

”I know that, but your real name is Grayson, and I mean to call you by it. Whatever the rest of the world may feel, I am not ashamed of your real name.”

”Is anyone?” I asked. I was sitting on the sofa now; my cheeks were blazing hotly, and my eyes were very bright.

”Of course not,” he answered, and he fixed his tired eyes for a minute on my face.

”My child,” he said--and surely no voice in all the world could be kinder--”it is my firm intention not to allow you to be forced in any way. I will lay a proposition before you, and you are to accept or decline it, just exactly as you like. If you accept it, Miss--Miss Heather, you will make one man almost too happy for this earth; if you decline it, he will still love and respect you. Now, may I speak?”

He paused, and I had time to observe that he was anxious, and that whatever he wished to say was troubling him; also that he wanted to get it over, that he was desirous to know the worst or the best as quickly as possible. I wondered if he was a relation of Captain Carbury's, and if he was going to speak about him; but I did not think it would be like Captain Carbury to put his own affairs into the hands of anyone else.

Still, I had always liked Lord Hawtrey, although quite in a daughterly fas.h.i.+on.

”What is it?” I said, gently. ”Are you related to--to him?”

”I have hardly any relations, little Heather Grayson,” was his next remark. ”I am a very lonely man.”

”I did not know that rich people were ever lonely,” I said.

He laughed.

”Rich people are the loneliest of all,” he said.

”I cannot understand that,” I answered.

”Why, you see, it is this way,” he answered, bending slightly forward, and looking at me--oh! so respectfully, and with, as far as I could guess, such a very fatherly glance; ”rich people, who live on unearned incomes, have neither to work nor to beg; they just go on day after day, getting every single thing they wish for. Not one desire enters their minds that they cannot satisfy. Thus, little Miss Grayson, it is the law of life, desire itself ever gratified, fades away and is not, and the people I speak of are utterly miserable.”

”I do not understand,” I replied.

”I am rich, and yet I am one of the most lonely and, in some respects, one of the most miserable men in London.”