"And then you will return with me, and remain?"
"I don't promise; we shall see."
The delighted Minnie was soon shawled and bonneted. It was a fine, clear day, almost frosty; they drove on till they arrived at Kensington Gardens; Minnie had told all, her flight, how accomplished—of her happiness she needed not to speak; it breathed in every glance, every tone, when his name fell from her lips. Dora more than once checked a sigh—this might have been hers but for her pride; the soul whispered this, the woman disavowed the thought; yet she had never loved him, or she would have sacrificed all, and even then have sighed over the poverty of the all she had to give. To check these thoughts, she drew the check-string at Kensington Gardens.
"Let us have a walk, Minnie," she cried suddenly; "the air is refreshing."
In an instant they were side by side, walking at a brisk pace through the walks. Lady Dora turned off towards the Palace, to avoid any rencontres. We often turn to avoid meeting something which is following us.
By chance, it so happened that Lord Randolph was riding down the road; he recognized Lady Dora's brougham, inquired, and in less than five minutes overtook her and her companion. What was to be done? Lady Dora was scarlet; nothing could more have annoyed her than this. Introduce her cousin she could not, as Mrs. Tremenhere; it would betray all. Had she had time to think, it would have been infinitely better to have said nothing than what she said. Pressing Minnie's arm, who, poor child, thought all Dora did must be right, she said, "Miss Dalzell, Lord Randolph Gray." Nevertheless, Minnie did start, and visibly; then a deep flush rose, and added still more to her extreme beauty. He was perfectly paralyzed. In overtaking Lady Dora, he expected in her companion to see some familiar face. Here he met a person whose name even was unknown to him; her confusion did not escape him either. Had they met before? Was she an humble companion? But, no: he assuredly must have then seen her before. And, to confirm him in the certainty of this not being the case, this fair girl called the proud daughter of Lady Ripley "Dora," and "dear Dora." She stood far below this latter in stature, though above middle height; but there was a fairy grace, lightness, and exquisite beauty about her, even his far-travelled eye had never before seen equalled; and when she smiled, or laughed with her light, joyous, modulated laugh, the face lit up so strangely bright, that she looked like some inspired spirit.
When a man or woman tries to be pleasant, he or she generally, not always, is constrained, and seen to disadvantage. What with her beauty, the surprise of the meeting, and curiosity about her, Lord Randolph, never too brilliant, became downright enigmatical in speech, which, together with her embarrassment, so annoyed Lady Dora, that, hastily turning, she said—
"It is later than I imagined; let us return."
"Return!" thought he; "but whither? I would give worlds to know. Oh! I shall find out; doubtless she will often accompany Lady Dora; 'tis some young friend, not 'out' yet. Shall I escort you?" he asked, after handing them to the brougham.
"'Tis useless—I thank you," answered Lady Dora, coldly; "we have a call to make." He bowed, and they drove off. He sat round on his horse, watching them out of sight; politeness forbade his following. It was an immense relief to his half-affianced wife when they drove off; every instant she had dreaded to hear Minnie talk of Miles: he was ever on her lip. But though much pained and astonished at first at the untruth Dora had told; afterwards, though still reprehending it, she felt assured her cousin had done it for some good motive, so she held her tongue about her husband. Miss Dalzell could not acknowledge one.