“Well, I’m blowed! He is the very image of Dick Wynyard’s heir—next to the baronetcy and property. Old Dick never speaks of him now, and I’ve not seen him about for nearly two years. Mrs. Ramsay, what do you say to a village romance, and a chauffeur being as like a young swell as two peas?”
“Oh,” replied the lady, deliberately moulding on her gloves, “truth is stranger than fiction; I’ve known some funny things in my life. I always liked Owen, and I am glad to see he is getting up in the world.”
“Up!” repeated the General; “if he is companion to Masham, he is much more likely to leave the world altogether—and that at an early date! Well, Edgar, Aurea has gone off with young Beauclerc and his people to the boats. Shall we go to La Turbie as arranged, and have the honour of escorting the two ladies?”
And then, with one consent, they rose with a loud noise of scraping chairs, and passed into the square in single file.
CHAPTER XXXII
AN EXPLANATION
Mrs. Ramsay’s trip to the Sunny South was accounted for by the fact that she had recently come into possession of a comfortable fortune, left to her by her godfather “in recognition and admiration,” said the will, “of the noble way in which Kathleen Ramsay had carried out her marriage vow—for better or worse.”
The widow had gladly accepted an invitation, and joined the Morven party. She was extremely fond of Aurea, the girl’s sunny nature and light-heartedness was a grateful tonic for her own sad frame of mind; but she now felt deeply indignant with her friend for her treatment of Mr. Wynyard, and could not have believed her capable of such snobbishness, had she not witnessed it with her own eyes. She had noticed his hurried address, Aurea’s quick reply, and then his face. What had the girl said, to thus turn him into stone? Personally, she liked Owen immensely! was deeply in his debt, and ready to forward his happiness and his interests to the best of her ability. Kathleen Ramsay, a woman of warm feelings and responsive susceptibilities, would have been delighted to promote a love-match between Owen Wynyard and Aurea Morven.
Aurea’s unexpected attitude had filled her with amazement and rage; she could hardly restrain herself, but managed to hold her peace—and that with pain and grief—for four whole days; at the end of the time, she received a letter from Aurea’s lover, which caused her restraint to break all bonds:—
“Dear Mrs. Ramsay,—I find it will be impossible for me to go over and see you, as we are leaving for Milan to-morrow. I should have liked to have had a long talk with you—you and I have few secrets from one another—but, as the Rector and Miss Morven are in your hotel, I could not have faced them again, and given Miss Morven the trouble of cutting me for a second time. You suspected me, I know, and I may tell you that it was Aurea Morven who kept me in Ottinge for six months; that, chiefly for her sake, I took on a detestable job in Town, and engaged to risk my neck with this crazy motorist; for every week that I was earning my bread and keeping my promise, was bringing me, I believed, nearer to her. To the best of my knowledge I have never given her any reason to think ill of me; on the contrary, I have striven tremendously hard to make myself more worthy of her, and the other day, when I met her accidentally, I thought it was a wonderful piece of good luck for me; instead of which, it was the blackest day I’ve ever known. She refused to remember or recognise me. I have only six months more to work off—sometimes I think I’ll chuck the whole thing and enlist; I would, only for my sister. What’s the good of trying? I’m afraid this is a beastly sort of letter, but....”
Some words were scratched out, but read, very carefully, and held up to the light, they were faintly decipherable.