Part 51 (2/2)

Confound it, Miss Wellgood, I'd sooner not talk about her any more!”

”Shall you see Harry?”

”I don't want to till--till things have settled down a bit. I shall write about what you've said.”

”About part of what I've said,” she reminded him. ”You've convinced me about that.”

Andy rose again, and this time she did not seek to hinder him.

”I'm off to town to-morrow; back to work.” He paused a moment, then added, ”If I get down for a week-end, may I come and see you?”

”Do--always, if you can. And remember me to Miss Flower and to Billy Foot; and tell them that I am”--she seemed to seek a word, but ended lamely--”very well, please.”

Andy nodded. She wanted them to know that her courage was not broken.

On his way out he met Wellgood again, moodily sauntering in the drive by the lake.

”Well, what do you think of her?” Wellgood asked abruptly.

”She's feels it terribly, but she's taking it splendidly.”

Wellgood nodded emphatically, saying again, ”I never thought she had such pluck.”

”I should think, you know,” said Andy, in his candid way, ”that you could help her a bit, Mr. Wellgood. It does her no good to be taken over it again and again. Least said, soonest mended.”

Wellgood looked at him suspiciously. ”I'm not going back on my terms.”

”Wait and see if they are accepted. Let him alone till then. She'd thank you for that.”

”I want to help her,” said Wellgood. His tone was rather surly, rather ashamed, but it seemed to carry a confession that he had not helped his daughter much in the past. ”You're right, Hayes. Let's be done with the fellow for good, if we can!”

From all sides came the same sentiment: from Wellgood as a hope, from Vivien as a sorrowful but steadfast resolution, from Billy Foot as a considered verdict on the facts of the case. Andy's own reflections had even antic.i.p.ated these other voices. An end of Harry Belfield, so far as regarded the circle of which he had been the centre and the ornament!

Would Harry accept the conclusion? He might tell Meriton to ”go to the devil” in a moment of irritated defiance; but to abandon Meriton would be a great rooting-up, a sore break with all his life past, and with his life in the future as he had planned it and his friends had pictured it for him. Must he accept it whether he would or not? Wellgood's pistol was at his head. Would he brave the shot, or what hand would turn away the threatening barrel?

Not Lord Meriton's. When Belfield, possessed of Wellgood's terms, laid them before him, together with an adequate statement of the facts, the great man disclaimed the power. Though he softened his opinion for Harry's father, it was very doubtful if he had the wish.

”I'm sorry, Belfield, uncommon sorry--well, you know that--both for you and for Mrs. Belfield. I hope she's not too much cut up?”

”She's distressed; but she blames Wellgood and the other woman most. I'm glad she does.”

Meriton nodded. ”But it's most infernally awkward; there's no disguising it. You may say that any man--at any rate, many a man--is liable to come a mucker like this. But happening just now--and with Wellgood's daughter! Wellgood's our right hand man, in this part of the Division at all events. And he's as stubborn a dog as lives! Said he'd resign from the hunt if your boy showed up, did he? By Jove, he'd do it, you know!

That's the deuce of it! I suppose the question is how much opinion he'd carry with him. He's not popular--that's something; but a father fighting in his daughter's cause! They won't know the other side of it you've told me about; and if Harry marries the woman, he can't very well tell them. Then is she to come with him? Awkward again if Wellgood, or somebody put up by him, interrupts! If she doesn't come, that's at once admitting something fishy.”

”The woman's certainly a serious added difficulty. Meriton, we're old friends. Tell me your own opinion.”

”I don't give an opinion for all time. The affair will die down, as all affairs do. The girl'll marry somebody else in time, I suppose. Wellgood will get over his feelings. I'm not saying your son can't succeed you at Halton in due course. That would be making altogether too much of it.

But now, if the moment comes anywhere, say, in the next twelve months--well, I question if a change of air--and another const.i.tuency--wouldn't be wiser.”

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