Laura's eyes sparkled.
"Good! Val Blake's the best, the kindest-hearted, and most generous fellow that ever lived. He has that off-hand, unpolished way, you know; but at heart, he is as good, and kind, and tender as a woman!"
She spoke with an eagerness—this impulsive Laura—that told her secret plainly enough; but the heiress was thinking of other things.
"She was engaged to Captain Cavendish—this Miss Marsh—was she not?" she asked.
"Yes, I believe so; but it never was so publicly given out. He was her shadow; and every one said it would be a match after Mrs. Leroy's death, for she detested him."
"How did he act after she lost her fortune?"
"Well, the time was so short between that and her dreadful death, that he had very little opportunity of doing anything; but the general opinion was, the engagement would be broken off. In fact, he told Val himself that she broke off, immediately after—for Natty was proud. He went to the house every day, I know, until—Oh! quand on parle de diable—there he is himself!"
Laura did not mean by this abrupt change that his Satanic Majesty was coming, though it sounded like it. It was only one of his earthly emissaries—Captain Cavendish, on horseback. Captain Cavendish looked handsomer on horseback than anywhere else, a fact of which he was fully convinced, and he rode up and lifted his hat to the ladies with gallant grace.
"Good day to you, mesdemoiselles! I called at your house, Mr. Darcy, but found Miss Henderson out! I trust I find you well, ladies, after last night's fatigue?"
He addressed both, but he spoke only to one. That one lifted her dark eyes and bowed distantly, almost coldly, and it was Laura who answered.