Lord Ethalwood returned to his own chamber, where he reflected overall the incidents of the day. It was evident enough that Theresa Trieste was greatly piqued at his abandoning the field, and leaving her to the control of her mother, and he assumed that she was desirous of evading or cancelling the contract made with Gerome Chanet. This was evident enough, but the earl found himself on the horns of a dilemma. He could not make honourable proposals to the widow’s charming daughter, and how to act in the matter he could not very well determine. He came to the conclusion that it would be best to trust to chance. After remaining for some time in his own apartment he deemed it advisable to pay his respects to the mistress of the establishment. So he descended below, and found Madame Trieste at work in the summer-house. She was alone, and Lord Ethalwood without further ceremony entered the rural retreat and sat himself down beside the widow.
“You see, madame, I don’t stand on ceremony,” said he, in a tone of familiarity, “I take the privilege accorded to an old friend of the family. I come without invitation, and I remain without much pressing.”
“You are welcome, Lord Ethalwood,” said madame, with a furtive glance at her visitor.
“Ah, that’s well. I feel assured of that.”
He then inquired about the health of Theresa.
“She has not been at all herself for some days past,” observed madame. “Indeed she has been constrained to keep her room.”
“Goodness me! I hope she is not in danger,” cried his lordship, with well-simulated anxiety.
“I hope not. It would be a source of great anxiety and trouble to me if I thought there was anything serious in the malady of my poor dear child.”
“And it would be an equal source of trouble to me.”
The widow looked up, but made no reply to this last observation.