“It is true,” he said. “You cannot fail to have seen what all observed.” And he went on quickly—“And but for this fancy—this passing fancy—all would have been well. Lady Bell, I am speaking more openly than I ever have spoken to woman before. I am risking offending you, but I do so from the affection which I bear my cousin. Lady Bell, I implore you to help me in saving him from a step which will plunge him into life-long misery. He is totally unfitted to battle with the world; married wisely and well, he would be a happy and contented man; married unwisely and badly, no one can picture the future.”
Lady Bell rose, her face pale, her eyes gleaming under the strain which she was enduring.
“Don’t say any more,” she said; “I—I cannot bear it. You have guessed my secret; I can feel that. Yes, I would save him if I could, and if you are sure that—that there is no engagement——”
“There is none,” said Stephen, lying smoothly. “There can be none; the idea is preposterous.”
Lady Bell moved away as he spoke, and turned over some book on the table to conceal her agitation, and Stephen, humming a popular hymn tune, crossed the room and looked down at Jack and Una with a benedictory smile, as if he was blessing them.
“Are you aware of the time, and that Lady Bell’s hall porter is uttering maledictions for our tardiness?” he said, playfully.
Jack looked at his watch.
“By Jove! No idea it was so late. Are you ready, Mrs. Davenant?”
Mrs. Davenant woke from a sleep, and she and Una went upstairs.
“I see you have a new maid,” she said, when they came down again. “What a superior-looking young girl.”