“Don’t, don’t,” said Lady Bell, pleadingly; “we might have killed him.”
“I don’t know that he would have been much loss to the world at large,” said Mrs. Fellowes.
“Home!” said Lady Bell to the footman; and she sank back with a brilliant flush on her face.
Mrs. Davenant drove home also, and in considerable perturbation. What had she done? What would Stephen say?
Fortunately for that young man’s peace of mind, he was resting at ease at Hurst Leigh, little dreaming that Lady Bell, or any one else, would meet Una, and coax her out of his mother’s nerveless hands.
Una, with quick sympathy, saw that her companion was distressed, and with a gentle touch of her hand, said:
“You do not like me to go to this lady’s house. I will not go. No; I will not go.”
“My dear,” she replied, with a sigh, “it isn’t in our hands now. You don’t know Lady Bell—nor do I very well; but I know enough of her to be convinced that if you do not go tomorrow night, she would come and fetch you, though she left all her guests to do so.”
“Is she then so—so accustomed to having her own way?”
“Always; she always has her own way. She is rich—very, very rich—and petted; and she is even more than that; she—she—I don’t know how to explain myself. Well, my dear, she is a sort of queen of society, and more powerful than many real queens.”