[CHAPTER XII.]
She was a pretty girl, with dark hair and complexion, but with soft, blue-gray eyes. She was short, and very small, so that she looked quite a school-girl, although she was in reality nineteen. This was Lilias Selvaine. She was the niece of the duke, and, young as she was, was the feminine head and mistress of the palace. She had lived with the duke and the late duchess ever since she was a child, and when the duchess died, Lilias, though only just out of the school-room, had stepped into her place, and undertaken the control of the vast establishment.
Of course, there was the steward, Helby; and a housekeeper, who was a great deal more stately than the late duchess had been; and a butler, to say nothing of a groom of the chambers, and other high and lofty functionaries. But this girl, five feet nothing, and with little soft, mousey ways, ruled like a queen over them all. Her word, spoken in the softest of voices, was law from one end of the vast place to the other; and never was law more wisely administered. The duke was extremely fond of her, and when he occasionally waxed obstinate, after the manner of old men, Lilias was the only person who had any influence over him. Between Trafford and herself there existed a very deep and strong affection. They regarded each other as brother and sister; and it was to Trafford, whom she admired and almost reverenced, that she turned when in want of advice and assistance.
She paused on the threshold of the room, as if she feared she was intruding; but at a sign from Trafford, as the three men rose—for the duke would rather have died in his chair than remain seated when a lady entered the room—she came forward, and offered her cheek to Trafford and Lord Selvaine.
“I am so glad you have come!” she said. Then she went softly to the duke, and laid her little hand upon his shoulder lovingly. “It is time for you to have your hot milk, dear,” she said. “Will you have it here, or will you come into the drawing-room?” Her quick eyes noticed that he looked rather tired, as if he had been talking, and she said, as she touched the bell: “You shall have it here; it will be cozier.”
The footman brought in the tea, and, looking very petite and girlish, she presided over it with simple dignity.
The duke could not dismiss the project of the watering-place from his mind; and as they sat over their tea, he recurred to it, and, with a childish enthusiasm, dilated upon its manifold advantages.
Lilias, with downcast eyes, endeavored in vain to woo him from the subject. And Trafford and Lord Selvaine, seeing that while they remained he would talk, rose and said they would take a stroll before the dressing-bell. They went out through the window on to the terrace, and Lord Selvaine rolled a cigarette, but for some time said nothing; he wanted the duke’s audacious project to work its due effect upon Trafford’s mind. At last, as they crossed the lawn, he paused, and looked down at the bay beneath them.
“To construct Belfayre Bay, say three quarters of a million; new orchid houses, five thousand pounds; a fresh lot of gee-gees for the stables, so many more thousands; other projects necessitating lavish expenditure, so many more thousands. And, mind you, my dear Trafford, it would not be easy to divert him from his intention without telling him the truth. Now, I have as much courage as the common or garden coward, but I am forced to confess that I should not like the task of informing the duke that he hasn’t, so to speak, a penny in the world, and that Belfayre is on the verge of ruin.”
“No, he must not know,” said Trafford in a low voice.