“I have loved you, Cecil, from the first day that I saw you at Mrs. Averil’s. I dragged myself away from the place, because I loved you, fearing lest you might come to see my folly. It was worse than folly then, for I was not a free man. I have gone on loving you more and more, from that time to this. I went abroad this last time hoping to forget you; striving to forget you; but I cannot do it, and the love has only become stronger. Forgive, I say, my urging it upon you in this moment’s impulse.”
Poor Cecil was all at sea. “Went abroad, hoping to forget her; striving to forget her!” It was worse and worse. She flung his hand away.
“Oh, Cecil! can you not love me?” he exclaimed in agitation. “Will you not give me hope that you will sometime be my wife?”
“No, I cannot love you. I will not give you hope. I would rather marry any one in the world than you. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Lord Averil!”
Not a very dignified rejoinder. And Cecil, what with anger, what with love, burst into even less dignified tears, and left the room in a passion. Lord Averil bit his lips to pain.
Janet entered, unsuspicious. He turned from the window, and smoothed his brow, gathering what equanimity he could, as he proceeded to inquire after Mr. Godolphin.
CHAPTER IV.
CHARLOTTE PAIN’S “TURN-OUT.”
A stylish vehicle, high enough for a fire-escape, its green wheels picked out with gleaming red; was dashing up the streets of Prior’s Ash. A lady was seated in it, driving its pair of blood-horses, whose restive mettle appeared more fitted for a man’s guidance than a woman’s. You need not be told that it was Charlotte Pain; no one else of her sex in Prior’s Ash would have driven such a turn-out. Prior’s Ash, rather at a loss what name to give it, for the like of it had never been seen in that sober place, christened it “Mrs. Pain’s turn-out:” so, if you grumble at the appellation, you must grumble at them, not at me.
Past the Bank it flew; when, as if a sudden thought appeared to take the driver, it suddenly whirled round, to the imminent danger of the street in general, retraced its steps past the Bank, dashed round the corner of Crosse Street, and drew up at the entrance to Mr. George Godolphin’s. The servant sprang from the seat behind.
“Inquire if Mrs. George Godolphin is within.”