But this Hugh steadily refused to do.
Lady Forwood was still endeavouring to persuade him by all the arguments at her command, when the box-door opened, and the count entered.
He bowed profoundly to Lady Forwood, and offered his hand deferentially to Hugh, who scrutinised him with a new misgiving. Was this man who shadowed the young pair in any way connected with that young creature’s unhappiness? He was, certainly, the sort of man that some women would consider fascinating, with his persuasive manners and his fair, handsome face.
He had brought a message to Lady Forwood: the princess wished to come round to her box—would it be convenient?
Lady Forwood clapped her hands with evident delight.
Hugh had not known her in this childlike, unaffected mood.
“Convenient? Splendid!” she said to the count, who at once vanished.
“Could anything be better?” she asked Hugh. “You will see her just as she really is when she is talking to her ‘mammy,’ as she calls me. What is the matter?” she said, suddenly, in a changed voice, for she saw her pale friend wince and bite his lip.
“Nothing, I assure you,” he said, earnestly, recovering himself. That word “mammy” had not been heard by him since Lilia had last addressed Mrs. Mervyn by the tender nickname in his presence.
What seeming trifles are the feather-weights that balance human destinies! But for the effect produced upon Hugh by that one word, he would have made an excuse, and missed——