“No, madam, not to-day,” answered the young earl pleasantly. “I am on my way to Canterbury to consult with Sir John Freise and Mr. Atkins concerning some business relative to the Hawkhurst property, and I shall probably do myself the honor to call with them upon Miss Wynde in a day or two.”
“Lady Wynde will be happy to see you and to consult with you,” said Mrs. Artress, with ill-concealed annoyance. “Miss Wynde is too young, I should judge, to understand anything about business. Besides, her friends should spare her all trouble of that description.”
“I shall be always ready to consult with you about business, Lord Towyn,” said Neva in her clear, low voice. “I desire to fit myself for my position as owner and dispenser of a large income. I regard the money intrusted to me as a talent for which I shall be called to account, and I want to learn to manage my affairs properly, and with prudence and discretion. I think,” she added lightly, “that I shall take Miss Burdett Coutts as my exemplar in this matter. She is a business woman, I understand, and I should like to be like her.”
Mrs. Artress was silenced, but she thought within herself:
“Our young lady has opinions of her own, and has the courage to express them. I am afraid that she is not the bread and butter school-girl we expected. I am afraid that we shall have trouble with her.”
The journey to Canterbury was accomplished only too quickly for Lord Towyn and Neva. They talked of their childhood, but no allusion was made to their childish betrothal, although both doubtless thought of it. The young earl explained that he had been over to Brussels for a week, and had no thought of meeting her on his way home, and his face as well as his tones told how glad he was of that meeting.
The Hawkhurst carriage with its liveried servants was in waiting at the Canterbury station when they alighted. Lord Towyn assisted the ladies into the vehicle, bade them adieu, and as they drove away followed them with a lingering gaze.
“How beautiful Neva is!” he murmured to himself. “And so pure and sweet and tender, yet spirited! I wonder if she remembers our childish betrothal? I don’t like that Artress, and I do not quite like Lady Wynde. I hardly think Neva will be happy with her, their natures being so dissimilar. I must go out to Hawkhurst to-morrow, and judge whether they are likely to get on together. If Neva does not like her step-mother, she has but one avenue of escape from her dominion before she becomes of age, and that avenue is marriage. If she would only marry me. I love her already. Love her! I could adore her.”
A passionate flush arose to his fair cheek, and a tender glowing light to his warm blue eyes, and he descended the steps and strode out of the station, his heart thrilling with the strange and new sensation which he now knew was love. And as he walked along the street, he vowed within himself that he would woo and, if he could, would win young Neva Wynde to be his wife.
Ah, he little knew the gulfs that would arise between him and her—the dangers, the perils, the sorrows, they two must taste. And even as he strode along, acknowledging to his own soul that he was Neva’s lover, Neva was speeding across the pleasant country toward the home where her enemy awaited her with schemes perfected, and an evil heart hidden under a smiling face.