“In love with him? Deary me! deary me! I never thought of that! But it can’t be, Charles,” she said, eagerly, “you’re joking with me. Kate would never throw herself away on such a person.”
“How do you know?” abruptly said he. “There’s nothing Kate won’t do, if she takes a mind to it. The man saved her life, too, or she thinks he did; and she’s as romantic as the devil!”
“So he did. So she is!” said Mrs. Warren, confusedly. “Oh! I see it all now. Why did I not do it before? But I never suspected such a thing. A rebel too, and worse, a rebel officer! We’re disgraced forever. What would Cousin Danville say? What will the King say when he hears of it?”
“Well, if this isn’t a precious partner I’ve got,” said Aylesford to himself, “to help me in my difficulty. I might as well have a crazy person.” But after a turn about the room, seeing that the handkerchief was still at her eyes, he said— “I’m not finding fault, aunt. But why the deuce,” he cried “didn’t you say that Arab was too wild for Kate?”
“I did, my dear boy, I did,” was the eager reply. “I was going to tell you so, only you frightened me. I told her so again and again. But your cousin’s as headstrong as her father, poor, dear man—I don’t mean to abuse him, now that he’s in his grave, but he’d always have his way; or for that matter so would your father, too, Charles, when we were children—I remember once seeing him, when he wasn’t ten years old, jump on an unbroken colt, that the grooms were afraid to ride, in spite of all they could say, and though I screamed as if I’d go into fits—and so she would ride Arab, when the Major had tried him and pronounced him safe, and though I begged him not to favor the child’s whim, and said to him, says I, ‘she’ll kill herself yet’—but he no more minded me than if I hadn’t spoke, for I see now that he wanted to have a tete-a-tete with her—and so they’ve been riding together nearly every day—and it’s all over with the marriage between you two, on which I’ve always set my heart”—and here the good dame, after this marvellously lucid narrative, burst into a perfect passion of sobbing, for she really could see no end to the troubles that threatened her.
Aylesford, with another oath, muttered— “Cold comfort this for a man. But what else can be expected from a whimpering old dunce? If she’d had sense and courage, she’d have got rid of this militia Major civilly, after the first interview. However,” he continued, “I mustn’t let her see what I think. She can be of service to me yet, and I must keep her in temper. I really believe she loves me as if I was her son.” So, again going up to her, and embracing her, not without something even of affection, he said— “There, aunt, compose yourself. What’s done can’t be helped. But, now that I’ve come back, I’ll take this matter into my own hands; and the first thing is to get rid of this rebel visitor. How long have Kate and he been out?”
He looked at the clock as he spoke, his frown deepening, for the hour was even later than he had thought.
“Deary me,” exclaimed Mrs. Warren, in reply, her face displaying visible consternation, “it’s almost noon. I wonder if anything has happened. I’m sure something has,” And she began to wring her hands. “I’ve felt all the morning that it would.”
Aylesford wheeled on his heel to conceal his impatience. But immediately he returned.
“Have they been absent two hours? Three? How many?”