Part 5 (1/2)
”Where is Everard.” asked Alice.
”I left him at the bower,”
”I think I will wait with Miss Leicester,” said Amy, ”I'm so very tired.”
”Yes do,” cried Rose, ”for then we shall not be half so long gone.”
Isabel sat down on the lovely green sward, and the tired child reclined beside her. Amy was so thoroughly worn out that she lay perfectly quiet, and Isabel was left to her own reflections, and these were by no means pleasant. Her conversation with Everard had cast a gloom over her spirits, she no longer took pleasure in the ramble or in the beautiful scenery around her, all the brightness of the day was gone, and why, he was not the first rejected suitor, but she had never felt like this with regard to the others. But then she had been the rich Miss Leicester, and it was so easy to imagine that she was courted for her wealth, but in the present instance it was different. Nothing but true disinterested love could have prompted him, and she felt hurt and grieved to think that she was the object of such warm affection to one who she esteemed so highly, when her affections were already engaged. She had seen how deeply her answer pained him, yet had not dared to answer his question.
Could she tell him what she had not dared to reveal to her dying father?
No; tho' could she have done so, it might have made it easier for Everard to forget her. When they reached the place of rendezvous, they found the rest of the party including Everard, already a.s.sembled, and Peter was declaring that it was utterly impossible to return without having some refreshments, after the immense fatigue they had all undergone in exploring the beauties of the surrounding country. Most of the party were of the same opinion, so forthwith he and Bob Mornington proceeded to ransack the hampers, and distributed the contents in the most primitive manner imaginable, to the amus.e.m.e.nt of the company generally, and to the extreme disgust of Grace Arlington in particular.
And then there was a general move to the carriages. After they arrived at Elm Grove, Lady Ashton insisted upon Louisa returning to the park at once. Several voices were raised in her behalf, but in vain, Lady Ashton was inexorable, and telling Louisa to say good bye to Mrs. Arlington, she hurried her away, and desired Sunmers the coachman to drive Miss Aubray home and return for her at twelve.
Arthur followed and remonstrated.
”Arthur, say no more,” returned Lady Ashton decisively. ”I consider you took a great liberty in bringing her, and I will not allow her to remain.”
”Since you are quite sure that it is best for her to go, I will drive her home, she need not go alone in the great carriage, like a naughty child sent home in disgrace,” he answered laughing.
”Nonsense, Arthur, don't be so absurd,” said Lady Ashton tartly.
”Indeed my dear Aunt, as I persuaded her to come I positively could not have her treated so unceremoniously,” he replied. ”Here Thomson,” he called to the man who was about to take Archer to the stable, and the next moment he had handed the mistified Louisa into the chaise, leaving the astonished Lady Ashton crimson with rage.
”Adieu Aunty” he cried, gathering up the ribbons, ”I must trust to you to make my apologies to Mrs. Arlington, and off he drove. Lady Ashton re-entered the house, inwardly vowing vengeance against the unlucky Louisa, tho' she met Mrs. Arlington with a smile, saying, ”that Arthur had begged her to apologize, as he had thought it inc.u.mbent upon him to drive his cousin home, as it was entirely his fault that she had come, and you know,” she added with a little laugh, ”how scrupulously polite he is to every one--.”
To Lady Ashton's great chagrin, this was the last that was seen of Arthur at Elm Grove that night, and she would have been still more annoyed had she known how thoroughly he and Louisa were enjoying themselves over their game of chess, notwithstanding Miss Crosse's exemplary vigilance.
The evening was spent in various amus.e.m.e.nts, and the company dispersed at a late hour, all highly satisfied, and voting the pic-nic a complete success.
After the guests had departed, Isabel had occasion to go into the school-room for a book, and as the beautiful harvest moon was s.h.i.+ning so brightly, she stood a moment at the open window to enjoy the lovely prospect. Hearing some one enter the room, she turned and encountered Everard. She would have retreated, but Everard gently detained her, ”promise me Miss Leicester,” he said, ”that what pa.s.sed between us this afternoon shall make no difference to your arrangements, you will not think of leaving, for I should never forgive myself for having deprived my sisters of the benefit of your society if you do.”
”I could scarcely do so if I wished,” she replied with a sigh.
”Only say that you do not wish it,” returned Everard earnestly.
”I do not, you have all been so kind, so very kind to me, that I should be very sorry to leave, nor could I do so very easily as I have no home.”
”Dear Isabel, why not accept the home I offer you?”
”Stay Mr. Arlington, say no more. You must promise not to recur to that subject again, or however unpleasant it may be to do so, I shall have no alternative, but must seek another situation.”
”I will make it a forbidden subject while you remain at Elm Grove if you wish it,” he said doubtfully.
”It must be so Mr. Arlington; good night.”
When Isabel entered her own room she found Emily there.
”Dear Isabel,” she said, after seating herself on a low stool at Isabel's feet, ”what a delightful day this has been, O I'm so happy,”