Thus Sir Alexis hastened back with his bride to Longueville, telling her fondly that everything was over that could harm her, and that they should now begin their old, sweet life once more. But, alas! that sweet life was gone like the winter snow; for the man who was no longer young, who could not hope to live to forget or see it forgotten, that life would return no more.
CHAPTER L.
JENNY’S MEDITATION.
“Nelly, where is Molyneux?” asked her brother abruptly. Jenny had just come back from the railway-station, where he had been seeing Innocent off. He was not in a very light-hearted humour, I can scarcely tell why. The boy was a far-seeing boy,—he might have private reasons of his own which increased his predisposition to see things in an uncomfortable light; but, at all events, Jenny was of opinion that Innocent’s chances of happiness were somewhat diminished; and, being uncomfortable himself, he had no particular objection to make other people uncomfortable. Besides, he had perceived, with his quick eyes, that his sister had “something on her mind,”—and he was disposed to help her to deliver herself. Mrs. Eastwood and Nelly were going on a visit to Miss Vane at the High Lodge, and then they were to proceed to Longueville. They were all rather glad to escape from home and their anxious friends, until the great event of Innocent’s trial had lost something of its freshness and novelty. Mrs. Eastwood, too, was much shaken in health by all her anxieties and vigils; and to see Nelly’s pale face, with dark lines under the eyes, and the shadowy resemblance to Innocent, which grew more apparent as she grew sadder, was more than enough to warrant Jenny in his conclusion that she had something on her mind. She started nervously when he addressed this question to her. She had not so much as named Ernest to any one since they came to Sterrington, and in the excitement of other anxieties, and absorption of all things in Innocent, she had not been questioned on the subject even by her mother. This was one reason why Nelly was so pale:—she had to reveal to them all the change of affairs. She had to acknowledge to herself formally, in so many words, that it was all over. She had to wind up this chapter of her early life, and agree that it was ended, and communicate the fact to everybody. And Nelly, not feeling herself able to take the initiative, had been burdened and weighed down by the secret, which no one shared, more than I can say.
“Ernest?” she said, with a sudden flush, and then added, more quietly, “at home, I suppose,—for anything I know——”
“Why was he not here with you?” said Jenny, pursuing his inquiries steadily. “There was nothing to detain him, I know; for he did come to see how things were going on——”
“Ah! I was right, then!” said Nelly, “it was his face I saw.—Tell me what was the meaning of it, Jenny dear.—Tell me all you know.—How did you find out he had been here?—and why, why did he come here, without coming to me——?”
“Are you still fond of Molyneux, Nelly?”
“Oh, don’t ask me any questions,” she cried, with the impatience of suffering, “tell me all you know!”
“Look here,” said Jenny; “a great deal that is not nice is said about women. For my part I am inclined to stand up for women. I’m a woman’s son, which tells for something,—and a fellow that has been brought up to be your brother, Nelly, likes girls in a way.—But look here, it will go a long way to convince me that you are all people say—silly, pig-headed, unreasonable, and more fond of your own way than of anything else in the world,—if you, Nelly Eastwood, a girl of some sort of character, go and break your heart for that prig Molyneux, when you can have a brick like John Vane for the picking up——”
“Jenny! how dare you speak to me so?”