The next few days were so full of busy hours that Lady Elaine almost forgot her pitiful lot. The viscount managed to secure a bijou villa within half a mile of Hyde Park. It was a pretty little place, set in an acre of garden, and the whole was surrounded by a high brick wall. To add to its advantage, the villa was already furnished, and the agent who let it to the viscount proudly announced that the last occupant had been a Russian prince.
“I have taken it in my own name,” he explained to Elaine, “to save the bother of references and the needless exposure consequent upon such a course. You have no idea how loth people are to have responsible business transactions exclusively with ladies. I have paid the rent three months in advance—a matter of fifty guineas, which includes all rates and taxes—so that you will not be bothered by anybody. Here is the key to the house. Now I am leaving London for a week or two to join some friends in Scotland, but if you require anything at my hands, a telegram will promptly bring me back.”
Lady Elaine did not quite like the arrangement, but it was perhaps the best that could be made under the circumstances. It almost appeared that she and her maid were living in a house to which Viscount Rivington alone had legal right. However, she paid him the amount of money he claimed to have disbursed upon her account, and thanked him warmly for the great trouble he had taken in all matters concerning herself.
“I do not think that I shall willingly trespass further upon your kindness,” she told him. “My life is already mapped out, and I shall be content to spend it quietly between the four walls of yonder garden until hope breaks through the dark clouds of the future.”
“Time will dull the edge of your sorrow,” he said, gently, but with a sense of bitter defeat gnawing at his heart. Her very words, the mournful sadness in her tones, sounded the death knell to his hopes. “You cannot live here always—you, the loveliest girl in England—the daughter of an earl! Oh, Lady Elaine, it is impossible!”
He spoke almost passionately.
“I have no other choice—no other wish—until my lover comes back to me,” she said.
The viscount turned away to hide the disappointment—the fury in his eyes.
“Good-by,” he said, suddenly. “I will send you my address to your new home in a few days. You will take possession at once?”
“To-morrow,” replied Lady Elaine. “Nina is engaging a servant to-day.”