Lord Hartledon thought he was making headway against it now, in sending for his old friend, and resolving to be guided by his advice.
"I will take an opportunity of speaking to Maude, Carr," he resumed. "I would rather not do it, of course; but I see there's no help for it."
"Make the opportunity," said Mr. Carr, with emphasis. "Don't delay a day; I shall expect you to write me a letter to-morrow saying you've done it."
"But you won't leave to-day," said Hartledon, entreatingly, feeling an instant prevision that with the departure of Thomas Carr all his courage would ignominiously desert him.
"I must go. You know I told you last night that my stay could only be four-and-twenty hours. You can accomplish it whilst I am here, if you like, and get it over; the longer a nauseous medicine is held to the lips the more difficult it is to swallow it. You say you are going to ride with Lady Maude presently; let that be your opportunity."
And get it over! Words that sounded as emancipation in Val's ear. But somehow he did not accomplish it in that ride. Excuses were on his lips five hundred times, but his hesitating lips never formed them. He really was on the point of speaking; at least he said so to himself; when Mr. Hillary overtook them on horseback, and rode with them some distance. After that, Maude put her horse to a canter, and so they reached home.
"Well?" said Mr. Carr.
"Not yet," answered Hartledon; "there was no opportunity."
"My suggestion was to make your opportunity."
"And so I will. I'll speak to her either to-night or to-morrow. She chose to ride fast to-day; and Hillary joined us part of the way. Don't look as if you doubted me, Carr: I shall be sure to speak."