There was a something in the way young Mrs. Haggard had spoken that convinced Lucy Warrender of her sincerity.
Her cousin turned and left the room without a word.
That same evening Miss Warrender announced her intention of making a long-postponed visit to some friends in town. In vain her uncle remonstrated, and pointed out that her presence was expected with the rest of the family at Walls End Castle.
"I couldn't stand it, uncle," she said; "we are quiet enough and dull enough here, heaven knows; but a month at the Castle would be too dreadful. Besides it is Georgie who is the old lord's favourite. I don't think I'm in his good books at all. I've put off and put off this visit so long, that if I don't make it now, I never shall. And even London out of the season is to my mind preferable to the oppressive magnificence of the Castle. Lord Pit Town is Reginald's relative, not mine; I should only be in the way, Uncle."
And so it was arranged.
Lucy went to her friends in town, and from their house she commenced a round of visits. She corresponded regularly enough with her cousin, and there was nothing very remarkable about the letters that were interchanged. Not one word was dropped by either cousin on the subject of the family secret. Perhaps a letter written about this time from Lord Spunyarn to his friend Haggard may throw a little light upon the way in which Miss Warrender amused herself.
"The Club House,
"Royal Yacht Squadron, Ryde.
"13th August, 18—.
"Dear Haggard,
"Here I am swaggering about this place in a blue coat and brass buttons, like the other sham sailors. I'm quite out of the hunt here, however, for I can't pretend to understand the jargon of the thing. Old and new measurements, tonnage, time allowances and movable ballast, are all a sealed book to me. Of course I go on to the balcony with the other idiots to stare at the matches, and, like them, I have to pretend to manifest an intelligent interest.
"To use a nautical simile your wife's cousin is 'carrying on' here. If I didn't know her so well I should think she meant marrying. Half the men here, including old Marlingspike, the venerable commodore, dance attendance upon her from morning till night, and she certainly looks a very bright little, tight little craft in her nautical get-up, which is the regulation thing with the women here. They say that little Jack Hornpiper proposed to her the other day; it looks rather like it, for he has suddenly started for a lengthened cruise in the Mediterranean.
"I suppose by this you have begun wiring into Pit Town's grouse, though I hear he does not keep a very big head of game on the place. When Hetton comes into it, it won't be much better, for of course all his spare cash will go in horses. I too have an invite for Walls End, but it is only just for the festivities, which everybody declares are given in honour of your wife and her boy, and to spite Hetton. He, of course, is furious. He swore at first he wouldn't put in an appearance at all, but a good many of the people here are going, and Hetton'll have to show, if only to keep his Jews quiet. The Barringtons, who as you know were never great favourites, have been quite the rage here since Miss Warrender's arrival. They are asked everywhere and go everywhere for the lady's sake, which is very good of them. The Charmington is going to astonish us all in a three-nights engagement at the local theatre; her benefit is announced under the special patronage of H.R.H. She has gone off terribly, but her hair is more luxuriant and golden than ever.
"Miss Warrender bids me tell you that she shall make a final attempt to rescue Hetton on her arrival at Pit Town's place. For your sake, old fellow, I hope she won't succeed, but I have known more unlikely things happen even than this.
"Sincerely yours,
"Spunyarn."
Lucy Warrender enjoyed herself thoroughly during her stay at Ryde. Mr. Hornpiper's misfortune had been a true bill. Lucy Warrender encouraged everybody, and it was not her fault if enthusiasts like little Hornpiper cut short the delightful period of their acquaintance with the lady by proposing to her.
It has been said that a ship is a prison, to which is added the possibility of being drowned; this is particularly the case in regard to a yacht. Theoretically, yachting is a delightful pastime; practically, it is an exceedingly expensive foible, combining the maximum of probable discomfort and boredom with the not unremote contingency of possible danger. Given the most delightful weather, a big and well-found yacht and a really good cook, given that the cruise has been a short one, that everybody has done his or her best to make things comfortable; yet how uncommonly glad we all are to bid our host and his dear delightful daughters good-bye—and how uncommonly glad they must be to see the last of us. If any of our friends were to invite us to come and stay with them and eat tinned provisions for a fortnight, we should indignantly decline, but if we are asked to do it on board a friend's yacht, we accept with effusion, and for at least a week or two before we brag of the high old time we are going to have. I am afraid Lucy Warrender and her friends the Barringtons were only fine-weather sailors after all, but they were very popular.
There was no false pride about Lucy Warrender. When she met her old friend and rival, Mrs. Charmington, upon the pier, she shook hands with her at once. In the days when Mrs. Charmington was a leader in society, little Jack Charmington, her husband, had been tacitly ignored; but now his wife was very glad indeed to have him constantly at her elbow, and she introduced him to everybody.