“A very open compliment!” he said, forcing a laugh,—and with almost rough haste, he suddenly let down the window of the carriage though the night was bitter cold—“This vehicle is suffocating me,—let us have some air. See how the stars are shining!—like great crown jewels—Deity’s regalia! Hard frost, like hard times, brings noble works into prominence. Yonder, far off, is a star you can hardly perceive; red as a cinder at times and again blue as the lightning,—I can always discover it, though many cannot. It is Algol,—judged by superstitious folk to be an evil star. I love it chiefly on account of its bad reputation,—it is no doubt much maligned. It may be a cold quarter of hell where weeping spirits sit frozen in ice made of their own congealed tears,—or it may be a preparatory school for Heaven—who knows! Yonder too, shines Venus,—your star Geoffrey!—for you are in love my friend!—come confess it! are you not?”
[p 164]
“I am not sure;”—I answered slowly—“The phrase ‘in love’ scarcely describes my present feeling....”
“You have dropped these,”—he said suddenly, picking up a fast fading knot of violets from the floor of the brougham and holding them towards me. He smiled, as I uttered an exclamation of annoyance. They were Lady Sibyl’s flowers which I had inadvertently let fall, and I saw he knew it. I took them from his hand in silence.
“My dear fellow, do not try to hide your intentions from your best friend,”—he said seriously and kindly—“You wish to marry the Earl of Elton’s beautiful daughter, and you shall. Trust me!—I will do everything I can to promote your desire.”
“You will?” I exclaimed with unconcealed delight, for I fully recognised the influence he had over Sibyl’s father.
“I will, I promise—” he answered gravely—“I assure you that such a marriage would be one after my own heart. I’ll do all I can for you,—and I have made many matches in my time!”
My heart beat high with triumph,—and when we parted that night I wrung his hand fervently and told him I was devoutly grateful to the fates for sending me such a good friend as he was.
“Grateful to—whom did you say?” he asked with a whimsical look.
“To the Fates!”
“Are you really? They are very ugly sisters I believe. Perhaps they were your ghostly visitors of last night!”