Such a spirit rather staggered the old gentleman, but, on the whole, he secretly admired the handsome sinner; while the fact of being father-in-law to an English Baronet, to have one’s daughter addressed as Lady Bromley, proved to be a salve to his wounded dignity and love of authority; therefore, the erring little lady’s indiscretion was finally condoned, and all was well.
After a few weeks spent in her home, she departed for England with her husband, where, with the exception of occasional visits to this country, she had resided ever since, and led a very happy life.
Her husband had died the year previous to Gerald’s connection with Mr. Lyttleton, and the “complicated case,” which this gentleman was conducting for his sister, was the settlement of the Bromley estate, a distant relative having laid claim to it, upon the ground of being nearest of kin, since Sir Charles had left no heir.
The property had been largely augmented by the fortune of the distant cousin, whom the elder baronet had wished his son to marry. The lady had always cherished a secret affection for the young man, and her love proving stronger and more enduring than her resentment against him for choosing a younger and fairer bride, she had bequeathed everything to him upon her death, which occurred some ten years after the present Lady Bromley had come to Bromley Court, and of whom also she became very fond.
Thus the Bromley fortune was a magnificent inheritance, and Richard Lyttleton was doing his utmost to save it for his sister. Nevertheless, a court of chancery was an almost hopeless labyrinth in which to become involved, and it might be years before the case would be settled.
Lady Bromley was a fair, sweet-faced woman of about thirty-eight or forty years, and, from the moment of their meeting, Gerald had been strongly attracted to her, and she to him.
Therefore, upon learning of the terrible shock and sorrow that had recently come to him, her sympathies were instantly enlisted in his behalf, and she went to him often during his illness, to be sure he had proper care and to cheer him as well as she could.
When he was able to leave his room, she conceived a plan by which she hoped to be of real benefit to him. She made him come to lunch with her one day, and, after she had induced him to speak freely of his bereavement and his love for the beautiful girl whom he had hoped to marry, she confided to him something of her own story, as related above.
“Come and stay here with me for a while,” she pleaded during this exchange of confidence; “I am almost alone in this great, silent house”—glancing around the spacious, luxurious room with a sigh—“and I should be glad to have some young life about me. Richard, you know, is always so busy he can never spare me much of his time, and my evenings are especially lonely. I want you to tell me more of this lovely Allison Brewster; it will do you good to talk of her, even though the story is so sad. Ah! I shall never forget the dreadful day when I read that tragic account in the newspaper and believed my husband to be lying in the depths of the sea!”
So, with her sweet sympathy and her plea for companionship, she won her point, and almost every day after that, when his work was done, Gerald might have been seen driving about or visiting some place of interest with her. There was a gentle graciousness about her—a sort of elder-sisterly manner toward him, that made her very charming, and he soon grew to feel as if he must always have known her, and he became devoted to her.