“He never shall, ma mère said the young man soothingly, while he chafed my Lady's stiffened fingers.
“Keep him away!” cried she, endeavouring to rise; “he is tearing off my wedding-ring. Help! help!”
“No, no, it is not he; it is I, Arthur Haldane—a well-meaning fool, but who has worked a deal of mischief. I have told you all I know, and I wish my tongue had been cut out first. It makes my heart bleed to see you thus distressed.”
“Then give me comfort, Arthur,” groaned my Lady; “you have warned me well, but what is the use of warning without advice. How shall I make him cease to persecute us? Gold will not buy him. I have heard of such a man, who, being bribed, cried but the more 'Give, give;' as the whirlpool swallows ship after ship, and yet gapes for more—-for navies.”
“Bribe him? No, Heaven forbid! That, indeed, would be the very way to keep him what he is—to make that chronic which is now, let us hope, but a passing ailment. But I would take care, if I were you, that nothing further he done to irritate him. He may-revenge himself—I only say he may—by doing Walter some ill turn. And, above all, you must persuade Mistress Forest to give him his congé. If once you get her to say 'No,' of her own freewill, he will soon tire of haunting the Abbey; while, if his race-horse does not do the great things expected of him—and what race-horse ever did?—he will soon tire of Mirk itself.”
My Lady shook her head.
“Come, ma mère, there is no need for despondency about this fellow's going—nor, indeed, for much apprehension if he stays—and, moreover, I really think the matter lies in your own hands; at all events, you have more influence over your waiting-maid than any one else, and my advice is that you speak to her at once.”
“Yes, I will speak to her,” said Lady Lisgard mechanically. “Thank you, good Arthur, much.” She rose from her seat, and, heaving a deep sigh as she turned from the fair home-scene, was about to saunter to the beech-walk, when the young man laid his hand upon her arm. It was the lightest touch, but, like that of an enchanter's wand, it seemed to remove all trace of selfish trouble, and in its place to evoke the tenderest sympathy for another.
“You wish to speak to me upon your own account, dear boy; and, alas! I know the subject you would choose.”
“Alas, ma mère! why alas? I want to talk to you about your Letty.”