By this time, his mother must have written, he thought, and Betty, too. Though the Bonnerstown secret was hidden from him, he believed letters had been sent. All ought soon to be right with him, in the best of possible worlds; but because there was also a Sidney Cremer in that world, nothing could be wholly right even for Lord Loveland. While he was thinking how good it would have been—were Fate a better stage manager—to justify himself to Lesley, Lesley sent for him by Uncle Wally.
To her he was still the chauffeur; and the darkey who politely delivered the message, announced that "Young Miss would be obliged to Massah Gordon if he would take her out in the car as quick as possible."
Loveland flung aside "Light," and Uncle Wally let it lie neglected where it fell. Probably he thought that "young Miss" was too impatient for an early motor-spin to care about wasting a moment on a newspaper.
As Loveland looked over the Gloria, making her purr pleasantly in preparation for the run, he tried to decide definitely what to do next.
If he flaunted his public justification in Lesley's face, there would no longer be an excuse to remain a chauffeur, and no doubt the girl would think as much, if he did not propose to leave. Because of her engagement to Sidney Cremer, he could not beg Lesley to let bygones be bygones, and go to England with him as his wife; yet the thought of going back without her, of never seeing her again in this world, impaled Loveland on the sharp prongs of pain.
Since he had known the girl in her own home, it seemed that his first love for her had hardly deserved the name of love, so much more did he love her now. Face to face with the certainty of separation, and her marriage with another man, every hour spent with the loved one became a priceless treasure. He resolved not only to be silent about the article in "New York Light" but to go back to his room, and carefully hide the newspaper.
This he did, delighted to find the big budget lying on the floor where he had left it.
Of course, Lesley or Mrs. Loveland might enquire for "Light" and learn that it had last been seen on his breakfast table. But it would not seem a miracle that a newspaper should be mislaid; and there was a chance that Louisville journals might not have space to "feature" Lord Loveland's affairs. As Lesley had elected to make an early expedition, it was almost certain that she would not have looked at a paper; and if she had skimmed one over, she might easily have missed a paragraph here and there. At worst, Loveland felt sure of this morning with her on the old terms. If she said nothing afterwards, he, too, would simply be mute, until Sidney Cremer's arrival. When Cremer was in the house, he would be glad to go, and glad to prove to Lesley before going that he was all he had once claimed to be.
When the car was ready he drove to the front door, and found Lesley tying on her motor veil, a charming picture set in a rustic frame.
Loveland's spirits rose when he saw that she was alone. "Auntie" in the Limousine was the least obtrusive of chaperons; still, there was joy in having the girl to himself.