After that day she avoided him no longer, but treated him with gracious gratitude for his kindness, which would have disarmed a man of better principles.
Lilian’s coldness to her had grown into more open dislike since Colonel Richardson’s fondness for music had kept him so long at her side on the eve of his journey to Scotland. But the girl could not do much to make her sister-in-law uncomfortable for fear of her eldest brother, with whom she jealously felt Annie’s interest to be strong. Young Sir George was a harder and somewhat colder man than his father had been, and took the lead in the family of which he was now the head as much by character as by position.
It was getting very near Christmas when the baronet told his sister one day at luncheon that he wished to speak to her. They went into the library together, had a long interview, and, when the girl came out, her face was red and swollen with crying. She was very silent that evening, and Stephen watched her in wistful wretchedness. He had not been able to speak to her that afternoon; he could only guess at the reason for her unhappiness, and he sat brooding sullenly over George’s cruelty in bringing tears to those proud eyes, and longing to be with her alone, that he might learn what her trouble was and comfort her. It was late in the evening before he got an opportunity of speaking to her in the morning-room, whither she had gone on the pretext of fetching some work, knowing well that her cousin would follow her. She broke into the subject at once.
“Mr. Falconer has proposed for me, and George insists on my accepting him.”
Mr. Falconer was a rich gentleman of about forty, who had paid Lilian marked attention for some time. Lilian affected to look down upon him because his father had made his money in “cotton;” but the sneer was absurd, as her admirer was a man scarcely less stalwart and handsome than her own brothers, and as much their superior in intellect, character, and feeling as it was possible for a man to be.
Stephen leaned on his crutches, trembling from head to foot at the news. He had known very well, poor fellow, in spite of mad dreams after an occasional moment of her fascinating kindness, that she could never be his; but her marriage had been a horrible dread for the distant future, and, now that it proved a not distant reality, his heart sunk within him. She was touched by the utter prostration of this poor cripple, who would, as she very well knew, have given his life at any moment for her. She led him to a chair, and tried to cheer him with a sort of regal tenderness. At last he said, his lips trembling:
“But George can’t force you to marry him, Lily.”
“Yes, he can, practically. The money that ought to have been mine, of course, I shall never get from this spendthrift crew. George says it is impossible that he can give me what my father intended me to have, that the estate is so burdened that there may be a break-up before very long, and I am half inclined to believe him. So I am portionless, and ought to think myself lucky to get a husband at all, it seems.”
“But, Lilian, that is nonsense! You are the most beautiful girl in the country; you will make a sensation in London, and marry a duke, if you like. You are surely never going to let George do what he likes with you, with your high spirit?”
The girl did not answer, but impulsively hid her face in her hands. A light came into Stephen’s troubled eyes, and he shuddered as he looked at her.