Breakfast was over at last; and leaving Lord Airlie talking to Lillian, Beatrice hastened to read the letter. None of Hugh's anger was there set down; but if she had cared for him her heart must have ached at the pathos of his simple words. He had received her note, he said—the note so unworthy of her—and hastened to tell her that he was obliged to go to London on some important business connected with his ship, and that he should be absent three weeks. He would write to her at once on his return, and he should insist upon seeing her then, as well as exact the fulfillment of her promise.
It was a respite; much might happen in three weeks. She tore the letter into shreds, and felt as though relieved of a deadly weight. If time could but be gained, she thought—if something could happen to urge on her marriage with Hubert Airlie before Hugh returned! At any rate, for the moment she was free.
She looked like herself again when Lord Airlie came to ask her if she would ride or walk. The beautiful bloom had returned to her face and the light to her eyes. All day she was in brilliant spirits. There was no need now to tremble at a loud ring or a rapid step. Three weeks was a long time—much might happen. "Oh, if Lord Airlie would but force me to marry him soon!"
That very evening Lord Airlie asked her if she would go out with him. He wanted to talk to her alone, for he was going away on the morrow, and had much to say to her.
"Where are you going?" she asked with sad, wondering eyes, her chance of escaping seeming rapidly to diminish.
"I am going to Lynnton," he replied, "to see about plans for the new buildings. They should be begun at once. For even if we remain abroad a whole year they will then be hardly finished. I shall be away ten days or a fortnight. When I return, Beatrice, I shall ask you a question. Can you guess what it will be?"
There was no answering smile on her face. Perhaps he would be absent three weeks. What chance of escape had she now?
"I shall ask you when you will fulfill your promise," he continued—"when you will let me make you in deed and in word my wife. You must not be cruel to me, Beatrice. I have waited long enough. You will think about it while I am gone, will you not?"
Lord Earle smiled as he noted his daughter's face. Airlie was going away, and therefore she was dull—that was just as it should be. He was delighted that she cared so much for him. He told Lady Helena that he had not thought Beatrice capable of such deep affection. Lady Helena told him she had never known any one who could love so well or hate so thoroughly as Beatrice.
The morning came, and Lord Airlie lingered so long over his farewell that Lady Helena began to think he would alter his mind and remain where he was. He started at last, however, promising to write every day to Beatrice, and followed by the good wishes of the whole household.