But the explanation of this appeared satisfactory enough; and Swinton had not been slow in making it known. Notwithstanding some shame to himself, he had taken pains to give it a thorough circulation; supposing that no one knew aught of the communication he had received from Roseveldt.
And as no one did appear to know of it, the universal verdict was, that the hero of C—, as some of the newspapers pronounced him, had fled from a field where fighting honours might be less ostentatiously obtained.
There were many, however, who did not attribute his departure to cowardice, and who believed or suspected that there must have been some other motive—though they could not conceive what.
It was altogether an inexplicable affair; and had he left Newport in the morning, instead of the evening, he would have been called by much harder names than those that were being bestowed upon him. His stay at the hotel for what might be considered a reasonable time, in part protected him from vituperation.
Still had he left the field to Mr Swinton, who was elevated into a sort of half-hero by his adversary’s disgraceful retreat.
The lord incognito carried his honours meekly as might be. He was not without apprehension that Maynard might return, or be met again in some other corner of the world—in either case to call him to account for any triumphant swaggering. Of this he made only a modest display, answering when questioned:
“Confound the fellaw! He’s given me the slip, and I don’t knaw where to find him! It’s a demmed baw!”
The story, as thus told, soon circulated through the hotel, and of course reached that part of it occupied by the Girdwood family. Julia had been among the first who knew of Maynard’s departure—having herself been an astonished eye-witness of it.
Mrs Girdwood, only too glad to hear he had gone, cared but little about the cause. Enough to know that her daughter was safe from his solicitations.
Far different were the reflections of this daughter. It was only now that she began to feel that secret longing to possess the thing that is not to be obtained. An eagle had stooped at her feet—as she thought, submitting itself to be caressed by her. It was only for a moment. She had withheld her hand; and now the proud bird had soared resentfully away, never more to return to her taming!