“We must resort to a cunning equal to Kāra’s in order to induce Aneth to break her foolish promise,” responded Mrs. Everingham, promptly.
“I fear I do not quite understand,” he said, stopping before her to read her countenance for the clue.
“I think—nay, Gerald, I am certain—the girl loves you; for I have questioned her skilfully during your absence and led her to speak of you, watching her tell-tale eyes as she did so. In my opinion it is this secret love for another that makes her sacrifice so grievous, and will end in breaking her heart.”
He blushed like a girl at hearing this, but was evidently reassured and delighted.
“Yet I do not understand even now, Mrs. Everingham,” he said.
“It is not so much that you are stupid as that you are a man,” she answered, smiling. “You must become the instrument to save Aneth from herself. In a few moments I shall take you to see her. Her rooms are just across the hall, and doubtless she is at this moment alone, Lord Roane having left the hotel an hour ago. This evening I will give you countenance, but thereafter you must play your own game, and do your utmost to draw from Aneth a confession that she loves you. When you have done that, our case is won.”
“Why so?”
“Can’t you see, Gerald? No right-minded girl would ruin the life of the man she loves to save her grandfather from the consequences of his own errors. If she is in the mood to sacrifice, we will let her sacrifice Lord Roane instead of herself or you.”
“Oh!” he said, blankly. “I can’t do that, you know, Mrs. Everingham.”
“Why not?”