Her calm imperturbability presented a curious contrast to his agitation. She was regarding him with an amused smile.
"And, Maude, I have come now to ask you to release me. Indeed, I—"
"What's all this about?" broke in the countess-dowager, darting upon the conference, her face flushed and her head-dress awry. "Are you two quarrelling?"
"Val was attempting to explain something about Miss Ashton," answered Maude, rising from the sofa, and drawing herself up to her stately height. "He had better do it to you instead, mamma; I don't understand it."
She stood up by the mantelpiece, in the ray of the lustres. They fell across her dark, smooth hair, her flushed cheeks, her exquisite features. Her dress was of flowing white crêpe, with jet ornaments; and Lord Hartledon, even in the midst of his perplexity, thought how beautiful she was, and what a sad thing it was to lose her. The truth was, his senses had been caught by the girl's beauty although his heart was elsewhere. It is a very common case.
"The fact is, ma'am," he stammered, turning to the dowager in his desperation, "I have been behaving very foolishly of late, and am asking your daughter's pardon. I should have remembered my engagement to Miss Ashton."
"Remembered your engagement to Miss Ashton!" echoed the dowager, her voice becoming a little shrill. "What engagement?"
Lord Hartledon began to recover himself, though he looked foolish still. With these nervous men it is the first plunge that tells; get that over and they are brave as their fellows.
"I cannot marry two women, Lady Kirton, and I am bound to Anne."
The old dowager's voice toned down, and she pulled her black feathers straight upon her head.