“De Winton is a capital shot too—better than Roxham; I went boar-hunting with him in Germany three years ago, and then black-cock shooting in Prussia, and I never knew him to miss his aim once.”
“He will come home laden with bears this time no doubt,” she remarked with affected coolness.
“Bears! not he. He has other game to follow now. Are you up to taking that fence, or shall we go round by the bridle-path? It makes it a good bit longer?”
“I don’t care to take the fence. Let us go round.”
She put her horse at a canter, and they scarcely spoke again until they reached Rydal.
Lady Anwyll’s voice sounded from the drawing-room, summoning her to come in before going upstairs, but Franceline did not heed it. She went straight to her room; she must have a few moments alone; she could not talk or listen just now. While she was flying through the air, it seemed as if motion suspended thought, and kept her poised above the mental whirlwind that Capt. Anwyll’s words had evoked; but once standing with the ground firm under her feet, thought resumed its power, and shook off the temporary torpor. She closed her door, and proceeded quietly to take off her habit. As she did so a voice kept repeating distinctly in her ears, “He has other game to follow now!” What did it, could it mean? Why, since he had said so much, could he not in mercy have said something more? But what did Capt. Anwyll know about mercy in the matter? What was Mr. de Winton to her in his eyes? Nothing, thank heaven! Nor in any one else’s. It was from mystery to mystery; she could make nothing out of it. One fact alone grew clearer and clearer to her amidst the dim chaos—Clide de Winton was the loadstar that was drawing her thoughts, her longings, her life after him wherever he was. Everything else was vague and undefined. She could not blame any one; she could not grieve or lament; she could only lose herself in torturing conjecture. It wanted more than an hour to dinner-time. Franceline had not the courage to spend it in the drawing-room, where she would be the object of Lady Anwyll’s motherly petting, and Ponsonby’s flat gossip; she must have the interval to school herself for the effort that was before her for the rest of the evening. There were steps on the landing; she opened her door; one of the maids was passing.
“Please tell her ladyship that I am a little tired, and shall lie down for half an hour before I dress.” The servant took the message.
Franceline did not lie down, however; she seated herself before the window, and thought. The exercise was not soothing, but it was a respite; and when she made her appearance in the drawing-room, there was so little trace of fatigue about her that Lady Anwyll rallied her good-naturedly on the cruelty of having stayed away under false pretences.
Lord Roxham met her with the frankness of an old acquaintance, and had many pretty speeches to make about their last meeting. Franceline responded with sprightly grace, and hoped he had come prepared to complete her education in parliamentary matters. The evening passed off gaily. Lord Roxham was a fluent if not a brilliant talker, and under the animating influence of his lively rattle, Franceline’s spirits rose, and her hosts, who had hitherto seen her rather willing to be amused than amusing, were surprised to see with what graceful spirit she kept the ball going, bandying light repartee with Lord Roxham, and pricking Ponsonby into joining in the game with a liveliness that astonished him and enchanted his mother. The dowager chuckled inwardly, and applauded herself on the success of her little matrimonial scheme; she already saw Franceline a peeress, and happily settled as a near neighbor of her own. None of the party were musical, but they did not miss this delightful element of sociability, so unflagging was the flow of talk and anecdote; and when Lord Roxham started up at eleven o’clock to ring for his horse, every one protested he must have heard the clock strike one too many.
“Come and lunch to-morrow, and join these two in their ride,” said Lady Anwyll, as she shook hands with him.