Part 19 (1/2)
Poor Margaret had been travelling about from place to place for the past fortnight, in the vain hope of finding a situation.
Her money had leaked away somewhere--there were plenty who were quite willing to rid her of the scant burden, and now, as she looked into her purse, she found but one silver-piece upon which to exist through as much of the murky future as her anxious eyes could pierce.
The Marquis of Ducie, with the prodigality of a great mind, had been pleased to send the sum of five pounds to the Lambeth express office for Miss Walsingham, with the promise of a payment at some future time of what salary was still due.
The five pounds had weathered fourteen days of traveling, extortion, and inexperience, but it had come to its last s.h.i.+lling now, and Margaret was desperately in earnest as she held the lean purse in her hand and asked herself the question, ”What shall I do now?”
She looked about the smoky houses, and down at the broad river, where the forest of masts bristled between her and the dappled horizon.
She wandered down to one of the docks, and seating herself upon a coil of rope, gazed absently at the green-tinged water below. Poor Margaret's heart was so absorbed in her musings, that she did not notice that the man who was stumbling over a length of tarry chain, in his eagerness to reach her, was his grace, the Duke of Piermont.
CHAPTER XI.
UNREQUITED LOVE.
”Good gracious, Miss Walsingham! Is it possible that this can be you?”
He seized her hand with a pressure which told of his delight; his tones were thrilling with glad excitement; his face was beaming with joy at this queer meeting.
He drew her up from her rough seat, and, still retaining her hand, made her walk with him, as if he was determined not to lose her again, and he feasted his eyes upon her face, utterly heedless of the group of gayly-dressed people he had left, and rattled on with a storm of inquiries.
”Where did you disappear to? No one could give me any satisfaction about you, and I sought you in every direction. Come away from this confounded dock. What are you doing here alone? Will you walk with me, and let me have a conversation with you? Don't deny me this time, Miss Walsingham.
We're not at Hautville Park.”
They walked through the crooked lanes of the town, and took a road which led anon to mown fields, and to furze commons, and to holts of scrawny hazel, where the red clouds of evening could gaze upon their deeper reflections, unbroken by toiling barge, or floating timber, or stationary s.h.i.+ps; and where pleasant willows made flickering shadows, and dipped into the rippling current.
”Now,” said the young duke, when nothing but the bleating of lambs or the lowing of oxen was likely to interrupt them, ”tell me why you left Hautville Park, and what you are doing here?”
”Why do you put me through such an inquisition?” asked Margaret. ”When I left Hautville Park I wished to be dropped by Lady Juliana's friends.
Your grace will confer an obligation by remembering this.”
”I do not aspire to the honor of being Lady Juliana Ducie's friend, therefore beg to be considered exempt from your prohibition.”
”On your own behalf, then, your grace, I am compelled to forbid any further interest in my movements. My sphere in life utterly removes me from your attention, and my path will probably never cross yours after to-day.”
”Miss Walsingham,” cried the young duke, fervently, ”I will not let you away this time without hearing me. I want to tell you that I formed an opinion concerning you when my eyes first picked you out at the marquis'
dinner-table, which each hurried interview since has only strengthened, and I have wished to tell you ever since that evening what a profound impression your graces of mind have made upon me. Whatever wrongs the world may accuse you of, I have the utmost confidence in you. I know that you will pursue none but a n.o.ble, unselfish course--that you are the purest, ay, and the bravest woman whom I ever met.”
Margaret was quite silenced by this outburst, and walked on almost frightened by the novelty of her position.
It struck her that the man walking by her side and gazing so eagerly into her face was the only stanch friend she had on earth.
For a brief moment she had a glimpse of the sweetness which gladdens the life of a woman beloved, and then she woke to calmer reality, and put the vision from her firmly.
”I am afraid that you think all this very premature,” resumed his grace, again taking up the tale, ”and so I suppose it is, to you. But it is not so to me. I could not have a deeper devotion and admiration for you years hence than I have now. Dear Miss Walsingham, will you make me immeasurably happy by bestowing your hand upon me?”
”I am compelled to reject your grace's proposal.”