'That's good,' said honest Mr. Chadwick, slapping his great band on the book to emphasise his declaration; 'that is the best thing I have ever heard of that chap. And the poor lady, she is going, of course?'
'Of course?' repeated Mrs. Chadwick. 'I really do not see any "of course" in the matter; considering the manner in which he has treated her, and the horrible life which, according to Charley Qrmerod's account, Lord Forestfield has been living for the last few months. However, she is going, says that nothing in the world will keep her away from him, and all that sort of thing, and has sent Eleanor to beg us to accept her excuses for having to leave so hurriedly. Lady Forestfield said, too, that if we thought the change was doing us good, she would only be too delighted for us to remain, and Eleanor would make an excellent hostess; but of course, that is out of the question. What I am looking at is, what is to be the result of all this?'
'The result of our not remaining?' asked Mr. Chadwick. 'I don't see that that requires much foresight. Of course I shall go and take a house at Brighton, and you will be very happy there till Christmas, when we will return home.'
'You silly James, I did not mean that at all; I meant the result of this illness and reconciliation and that--and I see it all. I have a kind of inward conviction that Lord Forestfield will die, and then the way will be clear for the others.'
'What others?' asked Mr. Chadwick, who did not follow the thread of his wife's discourse, and was longing to get back to his Life of Locke.
'Why, Sir Nugent Uffington and Lady Forestfield, of course,' said Mrs. Chadwick. 'You must have seen--but I declare you have no eyes. It has been perfectly plain to me for months past that he has been deeply smitten with her, else why should he have taken all this trouble of getting her back into her former position, arranging her affairs, and all that; besides, I have seen them together, and I am a pretty good judge of such matters. Now, when she is once a widow there will be no bar to their union, and you may depend upon it that that will be a match within a very few months.'
'It would seem to me to be a sensible proceeding,' said Mr. Chadwick; 'they are both well suited to each other, and if he is as devoted as you say, he might make up to her for the hard lines which she has suffered with her first husband, poor creature.'
'I wonder,' said Mrs. Chadwick, speaking to herself rather than to her companion--'I wonder what she will be called: whether she will continue Lady Forestfield, or become Lady Uffington. They are both "Ladies," of course; but I don't think if I had been a viscountess I should like descending to be a mere baronet's wife. I don't know how that is, and I shall have to wait till we get to town before I can learn, for there is no one here to tell me. I could not ask Lady Forestfield under the circumstances, and Eleanor is dreadfully ignorant on such subjects. By the way, I wonder where Eleanor is?'
It was lucky that Mrs. Chadwick did not know; for certainly Eleanor had no desire to be interrupted by her sister at that moment. After she had received the news from Lady Forestfield, and broken it to Mrs. Chadwick, Eleanor, on May's assurance that she could render her no assistance, had returned to the boudoir, and was standing in a pensive attitude at the oriel window, musing over what had occurred, when Uffington, who had finished his luncheon, entered the room. He stole quietly up behind her and called her by her name.
Eleanor started. 'I had no notion you were here, Sir Nugent,' she said with a blush.