‘As you are so much alone,’ interposed Gilbert, almost eagerly. ‘Don’t you really think that it would be much better than for you to be here, alone, without chaperon or companion——’
‘Nay,’ interposed Eleanor, half-smiling; ‘don’t twit me with that. I don’t want a chaperon; but if I did, how could I have one, when you know very well that Otho says——’
She stopped. Otho had said that one petticoat in the house was more than enough for him, and he would put up with no more. Gilbert smiled.
‘Yes, I know what Otho says. I was not twitting you. I only wish you would see that reason tells you to leave him, and not mix yourself in his affairs.’
‘Your reason may. Mine does not. Mine tells me that Otho is my brother; and I’m sure he is wretched with his own wrong-doing, though you scoff at the idea. Do you mean to tell me that Otho is happy?—you cannot. And my reason tells me that, sometime, I might find a way of helping him. He might want to come home and have some one to be kind to him, sometime. And I might be away, and never hear of it till a long time afterwards. I don’t mean to say that nothing would induce me ever to go to the Dower House; that is a different thing. But I will not think of leaving Bradstane. Men’s reason is proverbially superior to women’s reason, you know. Perhaps that is why we don’t agree.’
‘Perhaps it is,’ said he, tranquilly. ‘After what you have said it would be impertinence in me to urge anything further. Perhaps I have gone too far already. I was under the impression that you were very unhappy in Bradstane, but I am pleased to find that my fears were exaggerated. I am very glad you have found mitigating circumstances, and I hope the good may continue to outweigh the evil in your estimation.’
He spoke politely and coldly. Eleanor sat silent and almost breathless. Gilbert had never spoken to her thus before. She was alarmed at his tone, and it brought back to her recollection all the dissertations she had heard from Dr. Rowntree on the subject of his infernal cleverness, as the worthy Friend called it. At the same moment she recalled a descriptive sentence which she had heard Otho utter not long ago. ‘Finding’—he had said, speaking of some acquaintance who had long unsuccessfully wooed a lady—‘finding the sentimental dodge no go, he took to intimidation, and fairly bullied her into it.’
A convulsive smile twitched her lips. She did not believe now that Gilbert’s altered tone arose from disappointed sentiment. A much more prosaic reason suggested itself to her, namely, that the sentiment had been assumed in order to amuse himself, and see what the effect would be upon her. He must stand sorely in need of some kind of amusement at Thorsgarth, she reflected, and that was the one nearest to his hand. His present demeanour and sentiments were probably those of the natural man. What he had just said convinced her that he did not more than half believe in her desire to remain in order to be of some possible service to Otho. She was more than ever sure of this when he rose and said—
‘I will not detain you any longer, I know you are going out this evening, and I know that children’s parties begin early, as a rule.’
‘Yes, that is——’