“No, excuse me,” replied Hilary, seriously, “I can not undertake to give lessons in morality to you.” And then, turning away decidedly, she raised her voice to address Victoria, who was just reading a note, which she had found waiting for her on her return.
Perhaps Miss Fielding did not think the countenances of the other two indicated that their conversation could be prolonged with benefit to themselves; for she came forward almost immediately, and suggesting that luncheon must be ready, led the way to the dining-room.
The carriage was ordered round, as soon as the meal was concluded, and Hilary, who had been on a mental rack, while obliged to undergo the pointed civilities, and the overpowering assiduities of both cousins, began to breathe more freely, in the hope of escaping to a more genial atmosphere, and putting a continually increasing space between the soft voice and half-reproachful dark eyes which now followed her so tenderly.
It had required all her self-command, and her regard to duty rather than impulse, to avoid showing in her manner how exceedingly she had been annoyed by what had passed, or how entirely she was at “the Ferns” against her will. Her sense of what was due to herself, as well as her hosts, had compelled her to be courteous, and the recollection of what she owed to Charles Huyton, increased her resolution to endure. Victoria
knew she had come unwillingly; she could assure Mr. Huyton of the fact; and now she hoped the penance would soon be over, and the painful struggle between gratitude and dislike, or something very near it, might be put away at least for a time.
Greatly, therefore, was her annoyance increased, when she heard Charles say, that having some papers to take to Mr. Barham, he should accompany them, and would order his horse at the same time.
“Do so, by all means,” remarked Victoria, “if you prefer riding; but otherwise, you know, you could just as well come with us in the carriage. However, perhaps you like being independent.”
“What does Miss Duncan say?” said Charles, looking at her.
“Miss Duncan can have no choice,” replied Hilary, trying to look indifferent; “since both carriage and horses belong to Mr. Huyton, no one can dictate to him which he shall use.”
“But perhaps you have secrets to discuss with Victoria,” said he, playfully, “and then I should be sadly in the way. Is not that the case?”