Part 44 (2/2)

”He would have liked to. He is very patient, and he is very fond of me, you need not be anxious about me, it is just----”

”But it is the giving of you up, child, that is so painful, and the want of necessity of the whole thing. Sometimes I declare I am so impatient with----”

But what the d.u.c.h.ess meant to say was never finished, for the drawing-room door was opened once more and the footman announced Mr.

Fanning.

Albert Fanning entered in his usual, half a.s.sured, half nervous style.

He had a way of walking on his toes, so that his tall figure seemed to undulate up and down as he approached you. He carried his hat in his hand, and his hair was as upright as usual, his face white, his blue eyes hungry. He was so anxious to see me, and this visit meant so much to him, that he did not even notice the d.u.c.h.ess. He came straight up to me, and when he saw that my cheeks were pale and my eyes red from recent crying, he was so concerned that he stooped, and before I could prevent him gave me the lightest and softest of kisses on my cheek.

”I could not keep away,” he said, ”and I--I have a message from the mater. Can you listen?”

I was sitting up, my face was crimson, with an involuntary movement I had tried to brush away that offending kiss. He saw me do it, and his face went whiter than ever.

”Introduce me, Westenra,” said the voice of the d.u.c.h.ess.

In my emotion at seeing Albert Fanning, I had forgotten her, but now I stood up and made the necessary introduction. Her Grace of Wilmot gave a distant bow, which Mr. Fanning gravely and with no trace of awkwardness returned.

”Won't you sit down?” said the d.u.c.h.ess then; ”do you know I have been most anxious to see you?”

”Indeed,” he replied. He looked amazed and a little incredulous. He kept glancing from the d.u.c.h.ess to me. I do not know why, but I suddenly began to feel intensely nervous. There was a gleam in my old friend's soft brown eyes which I had only seen there at moments of intense emotion. She evidently was making up her mind to say something terrible. I exclaimed hastily--

”Albert, if you wish to speak to me, will you come into the next room.

You will excuse us for a moment will you not, d.u.c.h.ess?”

”No, Westenra,” she replied, and she rose now herself; ”I will not excuse you. You must stay here, and so must Mr. Fanning, for I have got something I wish particularly to say to Mr. Fanning.”

”Oh, what?” I cried. ”Oh, you will not”--she held up her hand to stop my torrent of words.

”The opportunity has come which I have desired,” she said, ”and I am not going to neglect it. It need make no difference to either of you, but at least you, Mr. Fanning, will not marry my dear girl without knowing how things really are.”

”Oh, please don't speak of it, I implore you, you don't know what terrible mischief you will do.”

”Hold your tongue, Westenra. Mr. Fanning, this young girl is very dear to me, I have known her since her birth; I stood sponsor for her when she was a baby. I take shame to myself for having to a certain extent neglected her, and also her mother, my most dear friend, during the few months they lived in 17 Graham Square. I take shame to myself, for had I done all that I might have done for those whom I sincerely loved, the calamity which came about need never have occurred.”

”As to that,” said Albert Fanning, speaking for the first time, and in quite his usual a.s.sured voice, ”it could not help occurring, your Grace, for the simple fact that the boarding-house never could have paid, the expenses were greater than the incomings. If you have ever studied political economy, your Grace will know for yourself that when you spend more than you receive it spells RUIN.”

The d.u.c.h.ess stopped speaking when Albert Fanning began, and looked at him with considerable astonishment.

”Then you knew from the first that the extraordinary scheme of my young friend could not succeed.”

”I did,” he replied, ”and I bided my time. I suppose you mean to say something disagreeable to me; you do not think I am in the running with her at all, but as far as that goes I have money, and she has not any, and I love her as I suppose woman never was loved before, and I will make her happy in my own fas.h.i.+on. And I'll never intrude on her grand friends, so that her grand friends can come to see her as often as they like; and as to my mother, she is a right-down good sort, though she wasn't born in the purple like yourself, your Grace; so, as far as I am concerned, I do not know what you have to say to me. I suppose you want to tell me that Westenra here, my pretty little girl, who is going to give herself to me on the 1st of June next year, does not care for me, but she will care for me by-and-by, for my feeling is that love like mine must be returned in the long run, and if after a year she don't tell your Grace that she is the happiest little wife in the length and breadth of England, I shall be greatly surprised.”

Here Albert Fanning slapped his thigh in his excitement, and then stood bolt upright before the d.u.c.h.ess, who in absolute astonishment stared back at him.

”That is not the point,” she said. ”You do not want to marry a girl who not only does not love you, but who does, with all her heart and soul, love some one else?”

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