Don't think, however, that I give up hope. By no means. I have heaps of tricks up my sleeve, small and fashionable as it is, and lots of strings to my bow. But I just wish one was a "bowstring" and round a girl's neck. I'd give a tiny, tiny pull. In fact, I did give one yesterday—one which I've been wanting to give ever since I received your letter. But actually, till yesterday, I never got a chance. I "made" several, but they always went to bits, like a child's house of cards. Poor me! That is part of the creature's cleverness. I think she knew by instinct that I had something nasty to say, and she kept dodging about, preventing me from laying hands (I won't say claws) on her.
Dick, too, she has kept in the same position, waiting for an opportunity to pounce. Indeed, she has handled us both surprisingly well, considering her age and bringing up. I have a certain respect for her. But one often respects people one dislikes, doesn't one? At least, really nice, amusing people of my type do.
Exactly what Dick wants to do with his white mouse when he has pounced on it I have no means of knowing, for since a slight misunderstanding, not to say row, which we had on the night of his return from Scotland and you, a certain reserve has fallen between us, like a stage curtain. He is on the stage side; I am in the position of audience. But I was never in doubt for a moment as to what would follow my pounce, provided the mouse didn't prove too strong for me—and I don't think it has. My pretty little ladylike bite must have left a mark on the velvet fur.
I dare say I have excited your curiosity by referring to a "row" with Dick, and lest you neglect my interests in the rest of the letter, to brood upon his, I'd better pander at once to your maternal anxiety.
He wouldn't have confessed to me anything you had told him about Miss Lethbridge's antecedents, for the very good reason that he hangs onto her with the grip of a bulldog on a marrow-bone; but as I was armed with your letter (I found it waiting for me at Bideford) containing full information, he saw it was no use to keep anything back.
If I had had the letter a little earlier I might not have racked my valuable brain as violently as I did to give him a chance alone with Ellaline. I arranged for him to find her deserted at King Arthur's Castle, like Mariana in her moated grange; but on reading what you had to say, I admit I had qualms as to the wisdom of my policy where Dick's future was concerned. However, even then I trusted to myself to save him if it came to the worst; and it might have been valuable for my future if things had happened "according to schedule"—just because Sir Lionel is such a Bashaw. He would never again have felt the same to the girl if she had schemed to be left behind in order to meet Dick. However—I can control most men, and many women, but I can't control trains; and it was through their missing connections that Dick missed rescuing his ladylove. As it has turned out, no harm has been done to him. I wish I could be as sure of myself; for Sir Lionel, I fancy, hasn't been quite as nice since. He can't guess what I had to do with the affair; but—I suppose even men have instinct, inferior to ours though it be.
Dick came to my room at Bideford, and was cross because things had gone wrong; I was cross because he was cross (I hate injustice in anyone but myself), and then he was crosser because I told him it would never do for him to marry the girl, knowing what we now know. He said he would have her, and hang everybody else, especially Sir Lionel; I argued that hanging people would do no good; and he then said that it would be all right anyhow about the dot, as he knew a way of getting something decent out of Sir Lionel for her. What he knew he firmly refused to divulge, and when I asked if he'd told you, he replied that he jolly well hadn't. Also he accused me of "stinginess," in not wanting "Pendragon to part," and wishing to keep the "whole hog" for myself; his delicate way of expressing my desire to retain the means of purchasing tiaras, etc., suitable to my rank, in case I should become the future Lady Pendragon.
At this point in the conversation our family relations were somewhat strained, but before they reached snapping point, with my accustomed tact (partly learned from you) I smoothed my nephew down, regardless of my own injured feelings. Nothing could be better for me than that he should be engaged to Miss Lethbridge, though, of course, nothing could be worse for us all than that he should marry her. Trust me, I say again, as I have said before, to prevent that. I assure you, I can easily do it. Meanwhile, I encourage Dick to believe that he has softened my hard heart; and though he doesn't believe in me absolutely, or tell me all the workings of his mind, I'm certain you need have no anxiety about your son and heir.
Now to my own affairs, which, after Dick's future and your neuralgia, I flatter myself are dear to you.
You've often remarked that I'm nothing if not dramatic, and perhaps when I tell you what I did yesterday you will think I've proved it for the hundredth—or is it the thousandth?—time.