“GEORGE SEVERNE.”
This munificent offer surprised and delighted Severne, and, indeed, no other man but Cousin George, who had a heart of gold, and was grateful to Ned's father, and also loved the scamp himself, as everybody did, would have made such an offer.
Our adventurer wrote, and closed with it, and gushed gratitude. Then he asked himself how to get the money. Had he been married to Zoe, or not thinking of her, he would have gone at once to Vizard, for the security was ample. But in his present delicate situation this would not do. No; he must be able to come and say, “My estate is small, but it is clear. Here is a receipt for six thousand pounds' worth of mortgages I have paid off. I am poor in land but rich in experience, regrets, and love. Be my friend, and trust me with Zoe.”
He turned and twisted it in his mind, and resolved on a bold course. He would go to Homburg, and get that sum by hook or by crook out of Ina Klosking's winnings. He took Fanny into his confidence; only he substituted London for Homburg.
“And oh, Miss Dover,” said he, “do not let me suffer by going away and leaving a rival behind.”
“Suffer by it!” said she. “No, I mean to reward you for taking my advice. Don't you say a word to her. It will come better from me. I'll let her know what you are gone for; and she is just the girl to be upon honor, and ever so much cooler to Lord Uxmoor because you are unhappy, but have gone away trusting her.”
And his artful ally kept her word. She went into Zoe's room before dinner to have it out with her.
In the evening Severne told Vizard he must go up to London for a day or two.
“All right,” said Vizard. “Tell some of them to order the dog-cart for your train.”
But Zoe took occasion to ask him for how long, and murmured, “Remember how we shall miss you,” with such a look that he was in Elysium that evening.
But at night he packed his bag for Homburg, and that chilled him. He lay slumbering all night, but not sleeping, and waking with starts and a sense of horror.
At breakfast, after reading his letters, Vizard asked him what train he would go by.
He said, the one o'clock.
“All right,” said Vizard. Then he rang the bell, countermanded the dog-cart, and ordered the barouche.
“A barouche for me!” said Severne. “Why, I am not going to take the ladies to the station.”
“No; it is to bring one here. She comes down from London five minutes before you take the up train.”
There was a general exclamation: Who was it? Aunt Maitland?
“No,” said Vizard, tossing a note to Zoe—“it is Doctress Gale.”
Severne's countenance fell.