Lady Jocelyn enjoyed the fun, and still more the serious way in which her relatives regarded it.
“This comes of Rose having friends, Emily,” said Mrs. Shorne.
There would have been a dispute to arrange between Lady Jocelyn and Mrs. Shorne, had not her ladyship been so firmly established in her phlegmatic philosophy. She said: “Quelle enfantillage! I dare say Rose was at the bottom of it: she can settle it best. Defer the encounter between the boys until they see they are in the form of donkeys. They will; and then they’ll run on together, as long as their goddess permits.”
“Indeed, Emily,” said Mrs. Shorne, “I desire you, by all possible means, to keep the occurrence secret from Rose. She ought not to hear of it.”
“No; I dare say she ought not,” returned Lady Jocelyn; “but I wager you she does. You can teach her to pretend not to, if you like. Ecce signum.”
Her ladyship pointed through the library window at Rose, who was walking with Laxley, and showing him her pearly teeth in return for one of his jokes: an exchange so manifestly unfair, that Lady Jocelyn’s womanhood, indifferent as she was, could not but feel that Rose had an object in view; which was true, for she was flattering Laxley into a consent to meet Evan half way.
The ladies murmured and hummed of these proceedings, and of Rose’s familiarity with Mr. Harrington; and the Countess in trepidation took Evan to herself, and spoke to him seriously; a thing she had not done since her residence in Beckley. She let him see that he must be on a friendly footing with everybody in the house, or go which latter alternative Evan told her he had decided on. “Yes,” said the Countess, “and then you give people full warrant to say it was jealousy drove you hence; and you do but extinguish yourself to implicate dear Rose. In love, Evan, when you run away, you don’t live to fight another day.”
She was commanded not to speak of love.
“Whatever it may be, my dear,” said the Countess, “Mr. Laxley has used you ill. It may be that you put yourself at his feet”; and his sister looked at him, sighing a great sigh. She had, with violence, stayed her mouth concerning what she knew of the Fallowfield business, dreading to alarm his sensitiveness; but she could not avoid giving him a little slap. It was only to make him remember by the smart that he must always suffer when he would not be guided by her.
Evan professed to the Jocelyns that he was willing to apologize to Laxley for certain expressions; determining to leave the house when he had done it. The Countess heard and nodded. The young men, sounded on both sides, were accordingly lured to the billiard-room, and pushed together: and when he had succeeded in thrusting the idea of Rose from the dispute, it did seem such folly to Evan’s common sense, that he spoke with pleasant bonhommie about it. That done, he entered into his acted part, and towered in his conceit considerably above these aristocratic boors, who were speechless and graceless, but tigers for their privileges and advantages.