“Though I could not recollect in time to tell Mrs. Crabstock where I was last night, or where I am to be to-morrow,” continued his lordship, making an effort to smile, “yet I can satisfy your ladyship—I shall be at Tunbridge.”
“Tunbridge!” cried Lady Jane, stopping short, and turning to Lord William, as the light shone full on his face: “Tunbridge, at this season?”
“All seasons are alike to me—all seasons and their change,” replied Lord William, scarcely knowing what he answered—the powers of mind and body engrossed in suppressing emotion.
They had now reached the bottom of the stairs—a shawl of Lady Jane’s was not to be found; and while the servants were searching for it, she and Caroline, followed by Lord William, went into one of the supper-rooms, which was open.
“To Tunbridge!” repeated Lady Jane. “No, my lord, you must not leave us.”
“What is there to prevent me?” said Lord William, hastily, almost harshly; for though at the time he felt her kindness, yet, irresistibly under the power of his demon, he said the thing he did not mean: his voice and look expressed the reverse of what his heart felt.
“Nay, if there is nothing to prevent your lordship,” said Lady Jane, walking away with dignity, “I have only to wish your lordship a good journey.”
“I would stay, if I could see any thing to keep me,” said Lord William, impelled, contrary to his better judgment, to appeal once more to Caroline’s countenance. Then cursed himself for his weakness.
Lady Jane, turning back, saw his lordship’s look; and now, convinced that Caroline was to blame for all, reproached herself for misinterpreting his words and manner.
“Well, my lord,” cried she, “you will not be in such haste to set out for Tunbridge, I am sure, as to go before you hear from me in the morning. Perhaps I may trouble your lordship with some commands.”