The old man's face turned a fiery red, and the angry colour showed itself under his thin gray hair.
"While the Deane belongs to Miss Baldwin!" he repeated low and slowly. "Well, then, there's no use talking about it. Hand over the 10_l_., and I'll be off."
In a few minutes Robert Meredith was alone, and as he listened to Mr. Oakley's heavy tread upon the stairs, he muttered:
"It's a useful study, that of the ruling passions of one's fellow-creatures. An expert finds it tolerably easy to work them to his advantage. Avarice and pride! eh, Mr. Oakley? and pride the stronger of the two. You won't give me much more trouble. No danger of your being bribed to abstain from saying or doing anything that can harm Miss Baldwin."
[CHAPTER VIII.]
THE MINE IS SPRUNG.
Time sped on, and no fresh obstacle opposed itself to Robert Meredith's designs. His venerable colleague gave him no farther trouble. He had calculated with accuracy on Gertrude's nobility and delicacy of mind preventing her seeking to prejudice his friends in the household at the Deane against him, leading her to keep her promise of secrecy in its most perfect spirit. Thus, he pursued his design against her undisturbed, under her own roof, and with all the appearance of a good understanding existing between them.
Meredith was, however, mistaken in supposing that Gertrude was ignorant of her sister's attachment to him. She was much too keen-sighted where her affections were concerned to be deceived as to the state of Eleanor's mind, even had it not painfully revealed itself in the altered relations between them. She knew her sister's infatuation well, and she deplored it bitterly. The sorrow it caused her was all the more keen, because it was the first of her life in which she had not had recourse to Mr. Dugdale for advice, sympathy, and consolation. Now, she asked for none of these at his hands. She could not have claimed them without divulging the secret she had pledged herself to keep, and grieving the old man by changing his regard for the son of his dead friend into distrust and dislike. So Gertrude suffered in silence; and as she became more and more isolated--as she felt the sweet home ties relaxing daily--she clung all the more firmly to the hope, the conviction that George Ritherdon loved her; though for some reason, which she was content to take on trust, to respect without understanding, he was resolved not to tell her so yet.
George Ritherdon passed three weeks, that autumn, at the Deane; but Meredith avoided him--making an excuse for selecting the period of his visit for fulfilling another engagement. During those three weeks the regard and esteem of old Mr. Dugdale and George Ritherdon for each other so increased by intimacy, that Gertrude had the satisfaction of seeing them occupy the respective positions which she would most ardently have desired had her dearest hopes been realised. When George's visit had reached its conclusion, Mr. Dugdale took leave of him as he might have done of a son, and the young man left his old friend's rooms deeply affected. Gertrude was not much seen by the family that day, and it was understood Mr. Dugdale had requested her to pass the afternoon with him.
"Why does he say nothin', when any one that wasn't as blind as a bat could see he dotes on the ground she walks on?" asked Mr. Dugdale's faithful friend and confidante, Mrs. Doran, when they compared notes in the evening, after Gertrude had pleaded fatigue and left them.