“A gentleman from Ireland!” repeated she, half aloud, as though the very mention of that country were destined to persecute her; then quickly added, “Say I wish to speak with him here.”
The servant bowed and withdrew; and now a perfect silence reigned in the apartment. Forester felt that he had gone too far to retreat, even were he so disposed, and although dreading nothing more than a “scene,” awaited, without speaking, the course of events. As much yielding to an involuntary impatience as to relieve the awkwardness of the interval, he arose and walked into the adjoining drawing-room, carelessly tossing over books and prints upon the tables, and trying to affect an ease he was very far from experiencing.
It was while he was thus engaged that Lord Netherby entered the boudoir, and seeing her Ladyship alone, was about to speak in his usual tone, when, at a gesture from her, he was made aware of Forester's vicinity, and hastily subdued his voice to a whisper. “Whatever the nature of the tidings which in a hurried and eager tone his Lordship retailed, her manner on hearing evinced a mingled astonishment and delight, if the word dare be applied to an emotion whose source was in anything rather than an amiable feeling.
“It seems too absurd, too monstrous in every way,” exclaimed she, at the end of an explanation which took several minutes to recount. “And why address himself to you? That seems also inexplicable.”
“This,” rejoined Lord Netherby, aloud,—-“this was his own inspiration. He candidly acknowledges that no one either counselled or is even aware of the step he has taken.”
“Perhaps the à propos may do us good service,” whispered she, with a glance darted at the room where Forester was now endeavoring, by humming an air, to give token of his vicinity as well as assume an air of indifference.
“I thought of that,” said Lord Netherby, in the same low voice. “Would you see him? A few moments would be enough.”
Lady Netherby made no answer, but with closed eyes and compressed lips seemed to reflect deeply for several minutes. At last she said: “Yes, let him come. I'll detain Richard in the drawing-room; he shall hear everything that is said. If I know anything of him, the insult to his pride will do far more than all our arguments and entreaties.”
“Don't chill my little friend by any coldness of manner,” said his Lordship, smiling, as he moved towards the door; “I have only got him properly thawed within the last few minutes.”
“My dear Richard,” said she, as the door closed after Lord Netherby, “I must keep you prisoner in the drawing-room for a few minutes, while I receive a visitor of Lord Netherby's. Don't close the doors; I can't endure heat and this room becomes insupportable without a slight current of air. Besides, there is no secret, I fancy, in the communication. As well as I understand the matter, it does not concern us; but Netherby is always doing some piece of silly good-nature, for which no one thanks him!”