Part 56 (1/2)
”A friend! Oh, this is madness,” says Sir Guy, with a perceptible start; then, turning toward his mother, he says, in a rather louder tone, that adds to the imperiousness of his manner, ”Mother, will _you_ speak to Lilian, and desire her not to go?”
”But, my dear, why?” asks Lady Chetwoode, raising her eyes in a vague fas.h.i.+on from her pen.
”Because I will not have her a.s.sociating with people of whom we know nothing,” replies he, at his wit's end for an excuse. This one is barefaced, as at any other time he is far too liberal a man to condemn any one for being a mere stranger.
”I know a good deal of her,” says Lilian, imperturbably, ”and I think her charming. Perhaps,--who knows?--as she is unknown, she may prove a d.u.c.h.ess in disguise.”
”She may, but I doubt it,” replies he, a disagreeable note of irony running through his speech.
”Have you discovered her parentage?” asks Lady Chetwoode, hastily. ”Is she of low birth? Lilian, my dear, don't have low tastes: there is nothing on earth,” says Lady Chetwoode, mildly, ”so--so--so _melancholy_ as a person afflicted with low tastes.”
”If thinking Mrs. Arlington a lady in the very best sense of the word is a low taste, I confess myself afflicted,” says Miss Chesney, rather saucily; whereupon Lady Chetwoode, who knows mischief is brewing and is imbued with a wholesome horror of all disputes between her son and his ward, rises hurriedly and prepares to quit the room.
”I hope Archie will not miss his train,” she says, irrelevantly. ”He is always so careless, and I know it is important he should see his solicitor this evening about the transfer of York's farm. Where is Archibald?”
”In the library, I think,” responds Lilian. ”Dear Archie, how we shall miss him! shan't we, auntie?”
This tenderly regretful speech has reference to Mr. Chesney's intended departure, he having at last, through business, been compelled to leave Chetwoode and the object of his adoration.
”We shall, indeed. But remember,”--kindly,--”he has promised to return to us at Christmas with Taffy.”
”I do remember,” gayly; ”but for that, I feel I should give way to tears.”
Here Lady Chetwoode lays her hand upon the girl's shoulder, and presses it gently, entreatingly.
”Do not reject Guy's counsel, child,” she says, softly; ”you know he always speaks for your good.”
Lilian makes no reply, but, gracefully turning her head, lays her red lips upon the gentle hand that still rests upon her shoulder.
Then Lady Chetwoode leaves the room, and Lilian and her guardian are alone. An ominous silence follows her departure. Lilian, who has abandoned the unhappy sock, has now taken in hand a very valuable Dresden china cup, and is apparently examining it with the most profound interest.
”I have your promise not to go again to The Cottage?” asks Sir Guy at length, the exigency of the case causing his persistency.
”I think not.”
”Why will you persist in this obstinate refusal?” angrily.
”For many reasons,” with a light laugh. ”Shall I tell you one? Did you ever hear of the 'relish of being forbidden?'”
”It is not a trifling matter. If it was possible, I would tell you what would prevent your ever wis.h.i.+ng to know this Mrs. Arlington again. But, as it is, I am your guardian,”--determinately,--”I am responsible for you: I do not wish you to be intimate at The Cottage, and in this one matter at least I must be obeyed.”
”Must you? we shall see,” replies Miss Chesney, with a tantalizing laugh that, but for the sweet beauty of her _riante_ face, her dewy, mutinous mouth, her great blue eyes, now ablaze with childish wrath, would have made him almost hate her. As it is, he is exceeding full of an indignation he scarcely seeks to control.
”I, as your guardian, forbid you to go to see that woman,” he says, in a condensed tone.
”And why, pray?”
”I cannot explain: I simply forbid you. She is not fit to be an a.s.sociate of yours.”
”Then I will _not_ be forbidden: so there!” says Miss Chesney, defiantly.
”Lilian, once for all, do not go to The Cottage again,” says Guy, very pale. ”If you do you will regret it.”