"Why—there is nothing I could do," with a delicate emphasis. Surely she could not spend all her life with Mrs. Westbury—making that mental reservation.
"You could do something that would repay, that would give your father and myself the greatest happiness."
She was not destined to hear it just then. Some styles had been sent from the dressmaker's, would Mrs. Westbury look them over and choose which suited her?
She was having a lavender satin made, and here were also patterns of lace for the trimming. So they discussed them. Then the postman, a few invitations to answer. It was so dark the house was lighted up. Laverne went to the piano again and tried to catch some of the elusive things she had learned from Isola Savedra. She could see the lovely, half-tropical home, hear the sweet voices, smell the fragrances of a hundred blooms. Ah, how lovely it must be on that Pacific slope. She could have cried with rapture and pain.
Dinner, then a long evening. No one came in. Laverne read, hardly taking in an impression.
"Put up the book, Laverne." The voice was persuasive, but it struck a chord of fear in the girl's soul. "Your father wished me to lay a subject before you that is very near his heart, that would really crown his endeavors for wealth and standing. And it is my desire as well. I think I have always studied your welfare from the time I snatched you out of that crude, half-barbarous life. And a third person's happiness is at stake."
Laverne shivered. A sudden light broke in upon her. She had half fancied that she had been used as a sort of blind that her mother might enjoy Lord Westbury's society, but if it should be——
"What an odd girl you are, not a bit curious? So I must put my story in plain terms."
It was embellished. In business statements Mrs. Westbury could come to the point quickly, but she did somehow dread this a little, for she began to mistrust the girl she had fancied would be easily convinced. She went briefly over the commercial side, and suggested this had been done because Lord Wrexford had taken a great fancy to her the first evening he had met her at the Thorleys. For her sake and for her advantage her father had rescued Wrexford Grange. Any girl would be proud of such an opportunity. Lord Wrexford was getting impatient, and desired to make his proposal, though the marriage would not be hurried unduly.
"I saw you were not dreaming of such a thing, and your father thought I had better prepare you a little. Think, Laverne, a simple American girl becoming Lady Wrexford!"