Meanwhile, he evaded these manœuvres, and placed himself on terms of equal civility with all the sisters, by whom he found even his weakest foibles caressed. Lucy, alone, resisted his fascinations, and long after every shadow of her grief had disappeared, continued to avoid him, and never mentioned, before him, the name of her new admirer, whom she now frequently met, either at the public balls, or the morning concerts in the Pump room, the fashionable resort of the sick, who drank its waters, the musical, or the idle.
Mr. Beauclerc considered himself a judge of music, and might frequently be seen listening to the performance with a scientific air. He seldom failed to join the Villars party, and engage Lucy in conversation, to her unfeigned satisfaction. She could not fail to perceive that there was one subject which dwelt in his thoughts, though seldom more than dimly hinted at, which gave an air of sadness to his mind.
What this might be, Lucy knew not, though vanity echoed a ready answer, and, whenever he spoke of his own loneliness or unhappiness, she evaded the subject with a coquetry sufficiently skilful to check his confidence, and, though it sometimes sent him away in an ill humour, he invariably returned, in a short while, and she flattered herself that each little exertion of her power only riveted his chains more surely.
Several weeks had thus passed when, one morning, Mrs. Villars received a letter from Mr. Ware, begging her immediate presence at Aston, as the symptoms of her sister's illness had assumed a more dangerous character, and he feared that the utmost haste would be required to enable her to reach Aston in time to see her alive. Estranged as Mrs. Villars had been from her sister, she yet loved her, as warmly as her selfish nature would allow—and she hastened to her husband's study, to make preparations for her immediate journey; she would not, however, hear of his offer to accompany her, lest Colonel Hargrave might take the alarm, and leave them—she, therefore, only begged him to keep less to his study, at least, in the evenings. Mr. Villars replied, that his own sense of delicacy might be relied on; which made her fear that he would give them too much of his company; but she had little time to argue, for, before her hasty preparations were completed, the post-chaise, which had been ordered, was at the door.
As she was stepping in, Colonel Hargrave offered to accompany her for a few stages, saying that he had a friend in the direction she was going, whom he was anxious to visit.
"I am going to a sad scene," said Mrs. Villars, when they had travelled for a few miles, "and, besides the loss of my sister, my feelings will be agonised, I know, for she leaves a daughter to mourn her loss, homeless and unprotected."
"Yes," said Hargrave; "but your presence will be some comfort to her."
"I quite dread the meeting," continued Mrs. Villars. "Did you read Mr. Ware's letter? I fear there is no hope."
"None, indeed, I fear," replied Hargrave, looking out to urge the post-boy to greater speed. "What is to become of Miss Lesly?" he presently asked, "she has, I suppose, something to depend upon."
Mrs. Villars slightly coloured, and couched hastily, when she perceived her change of countenance observed.