"May I ask," he said hastily, "whether your ladyship comes from Miss Dalzell thus requesting?"
"You cannot imagine, sir," and she drew her proud figure up, "that my cousin could be unwomanly enough to make so strange a request—implying fear of herself? No; I fear for her, only because she is a warm-hearted girl. Her sympathies are awakened for you; her uncle and aunts have chosen otherwise for her; a marriage with you would be most distasteful to them on that account," she hastily added, to soften the real meaning of her heart, which she had nearly betrayed in her haste. She would not wilfully pain any one. "And by some unfortunate event you have met. It is paying you a compliment to say I fear for her."
"Paying me a compliment," he sternly replied, "at the expense of one whose memory I revere. Were I the acknowledged master of the manor-house, my visits as a suitor would not be less pleasing than those of my worthless cousin, Marmaduke Burton. As it is, Lady Dora Vaughan ought to know how little there is to be feared from myself in attaching any one; for, let my station be what it may, the heart knows of none, and for one worthy of its love, will fearlessly speak. Thus, then, there cannot really exist in your ladyship's mind the fear your words express. You have proved how, in all confidence, I may be trusted near disengaged hearts; I will conclude some kinder motive impelled you to seek me to-day—some old scenes to recall to memory—together to speak some friendly word, which will bear repetition—something in short of the past; or a friend, to inquire about. All are well, I believe; were, when I left. Lord Randolph Gray perfectly recovered from his fall, though they say, from some hidden cause, sad at heart. Or it may be only an artistic visit this,—has your ladyship's portrait grown pale? Colours fade sometimes, however much we may have endeavoured to make them proof against so great sacrilege, to a lovely original. Shall I call, when in the neighbourhood of Loughton Castle, and retouch it? or will your ladyship send it to the artist's studio in town? I wait your commands."
All this was uttered in a tone of badinage, leaving her abashed and speechless. How she despised herself for having ever allowed a momentary weakness of heart at Florence, to leave a dream on that man's mind that she had almost loved him. How she hated him for having excited that affection, and now even forcing her to respect him. In her self-abasement, she would have rejoiced in proving him base, that she might banish him, as she then could, from her thoughts. And, as the last pain is ever keenest, she more than all else deplored her ill-advised morning walk. She felt she had injured her cause, and, resolving to abridge this meeting, also came to the decision of watching over Minnie, and imploring her Aunt Dorcas to reason with her. How people hurry on events by too much forethought, sometimes.
"I fear," she answered, after a moment's pause, stopping in her walk with a frigidity of manner which would have convinced many of their first error in supposing she had even dreamed of love. But Tremenhere was not a superficial observer. "I fear, Mr. Tremenhere, that you totally mistake my meaning and intention. Lest a greater error than the first should ensue, we will, if you please, stop here in our conversation. I trust I misjudge my cousin's warm heart, and that it will never lead her into an act which would deprive her of all her friend's sympathy. Nay, do not take any personal offence; but she is too unsophisticated to trust her own judgment in all things."
"May I without offence say," said he, completely changing the conversation, and smiling blandly, "that I regret much your ladyship's portrait should have been entrusted to my care under the influence of a more southern sky? Assuredly there can be nothing in nature to equal the beauty of the dazzling English complexion!" And he gazed respectfully, but admiringly on her glowing cheek. She certainly was beautiful at that moment; many emotions combined to heighten the colouring of the fresh morning air. Again she bit her lip. This man had beaten her; and not alone doing it, but he knew he had done so, and made her feel it. She merely bowed; and as they turned in their walk, finding herself near the door entering Gatestone shrubbery, stopped. Then for the first time her abased self-confidence made her dread lest any one should have seen her with him. What would be thought, said, reported? And in this unenviable state of mind, she took a cold, haughty leave of Tremenhere, who was smiling, and courteous in the extreme. As he replaced his hat, he turned away, and she hastily entered the grounds. Lady Dora almost forgot her dignity enough to hurry towards the house; perhaps she would quite have done so, had she seen Minnie concealed within the shrubs, with distended eyes, full of wonder, and a little regret, earnestly watching her. Poor girl! she did not know what to do or think. Her first movement had been to join Dora; then one of delicacy withheld her—the other evidently wished her visit unknown. Minnie had been matinal, too; and looking from her window before descending, not to seek Miles, but to walk in the fresh garden among dew and flowers, she saw Dora pass out. Deeming the other's motive like her own, she hastened her toilet, and just arrived in the shrubbery as Dora joined Miles at the stile. Him she knew at a glance; then her heart questioned, "What are they to each other?" She knew they had met. Had she been confiding her admiration of him to one who loved him? one perhaps beloved? She would ask Dora—no, she would wait till they were alone—Dora would surely speak of the morning's walk. So in this final decision Minnie paused, and, unseen by the other, followed her to the house, where they shortly after met at breakfast.
"Dora, you are late," said Minnie, as she entered the breakfast parlour.
"Yes," was the reply, "we sleep well in country air."
"She will tell me when we are alone," thought Minnie. And when that occurred, and the other kept silence of lip, and looked so thoughtful, Minnie felt sadly disappointed. Dora was not all candour, and her pure nature sickened at the worldly lesson. A first deception where we trusted, often mars a life; at all events, it taints life's current, and breeds suspicion—frequently, error, on our part.