"Oh, I have done well to refuse!" she cried. "Mere sufferance from him would kill me! Oh, would that I were dead!—would that he were free! Then he might marry her! Poor Miles—poor Miles, he never will be happy! Were I gone, her proud heart would not perhaps reject him at last; I know her well, and how difficult his task must be; is he not deserving all pity? He thought he loved me, to awaken and know another held his heart in bondage! He loves her well! no wonder he looks so sad and ill: poor Miles!" and the generous heart bled more for him than for its own breaking sorrow!
A few moments afterwards, Lady Dora and her two attendant suitors passed the quiet carriage in a hand-canter.
CHAPTER XX.
Days passed after the events related in the last chapter, and Tremenhere did not make his appearance in Lady Ripley's apartments, at l'Hotel Mirabeau; to a person of Lady Dora's despotic temper, his conduct was maddening. He never lost an opportunity of uttering words leading her to believe his affections entangled beyond remedy; no one could look at him without seeing that he suffered keenly from some mental cause, and something of recent occurrence; therefore, it was not Minnie's loss—but this she would not permit herself to think for a moment—no, 'twas herself; consequently his manner of acting was the more inexplicable. He never sought her, but when they met; he seemed unable to controul his feelings, his avowal of love; but this was not all she would have. She would have him throw himself, a slave enchained before her, beseeching her love, to loosen his bonds, or rivet them for ever. In her impatient rage she hated all, even Lord Randolph at last, for the very friendship he had for Tremenhere. It was this, she thought, which, acting on an overstrained (to her) idea of honour, prevented his admitting all, and claiming a return. Her every thought became bitterness. Nothing is nearer love than hate; they are two extremes a child's tiny hand might unite. Thus, then, she fostered in absence a bitter hatred towards Tremenhere, which melted like a waxen flower in the sun when he approached, and became quite as impressionable, capable of any feeling he might stamp there in its place. In her rage she looked around for some one wherewith to wound him, and the thought after appeared in the person of Marmaduke Burton, who returned to Paris from a long tour in Italy and elsewhere. Coward-like, he had fled at first, then, not finding himself pursued, he stopped, and, looking around, thought he had deserted the field too soon.
It was at a ball Lady Dora met him, nearly a week after the events of the past chapter. He stood for a moment uncertain how to act. She knew Tremenhere was there; they had just spoken, and he had passed on. In an instant she saw her advantage—for so she deemed it; and, holding out a hand, cordially welcomed Burton's return amongst them. Her mother, among others, had almost dropped the acquaintance, in consequence of the coward slur attached to his name; but so completely was Lady Dora mistress of all around her, that her mother, though still doubting the policy of it, remembering how decidedly Lord Randolph had cut him, was fain to receive him politely when Lady Dora came up, leaning on his arm.
"I will bend him now!" she thought, as she reflected upon the only one occupying her mind. As she moved through the rooms, she met Lord Randolph, who was seeking her.
He started: Marmaduke looked embarrassed, and then attempted to smile; but the other was one of those to whom wealth was as dross, compared with honour. All the weaker parts of his character were sinking to the bottom, and the more sterling ones rising to the surface. Possibly it was from constant association with so noble a mind as Tremenhere's—and Lady Lysson's, too. Be it as it may, the struggling artist was more to him than the wealthy but dishonourable Burton. Without glancing at him, he held out an arm to Lady Dora, saying—
"Will you take my arm? I have been seeking you; Lady Lysson is anxious to speak to you."
"Thank you," she replied with hauteur; "but you must see I am otherwise engaged—I am going to dance with Mr. Burton. Allow me to recall to your memory, an old friend."