"Yes, if one could win her; but then you were throwing all away,without anything in return. You should have remembered that you wouldlose all and gain nothing. What says the poet:
"'What care I how fair she be, If she be not fair for me?'"
Lancaster said nothing, only sighed furiously.
"Look here, old fellow," said his friend. "Tell me the truth. If youcould get Leonora, would you really throw over all the rest for her?Would you do the 'all for love, and the world well lost' business?"
An eloquent look from Lancaster's dark-blue eyes was his only answer.
"You would. Then you are far gone indeed. I do not think I ought tocountenance you in such egregious folly. I think you will be cured ofyour madness when I tell you her second reason for not loving me."
Lancaster looked at him imploringly.
"Say what you are going to say, De Vere," he said, almost roughly, inthe misery that filled his voice; "but, for God's sake, don't chaff!Think what I've endured already. I love Leonora to madness. If youthink there's any hope for me, say so at once and put me out of misery."
"Lancaster, I'm sorry for you, upon my soul, but I don't think there'sany chance for you at all. Miss West told me quite frankly that she wasin love with another man."
Lancaster gives a great start. He says, hurriedly:
"Who is the happy man?"
"She would not tell, but of course it can not be you, because she saysit is quite a hopeless passion. He does not love her; she admitted thatwith the reddest blushes."
"No, of course, it can not be me, for I am quite sure she knows myheart. I have shown her my love unwittingly more than once, and beenlaughed at for my pains," Lancaster admits, with bitter chagrin anddespair struggling in his voice.
"Poor little girl! It is strange that she should love in vain. It is acold-hearted man indeed that could be insensible to so much beauty andsweetness," De Vere muses aloud. "I think it is some one she has leftin New York, for she and Miss West are going to sail for America nextweek, to make their home there."
"Then that ends all," Lancaster says, moodily.
"Yes," De Vere answers, rather gravely. "And there will be one pagefolded down forever in both our lives, eh, old fellow? We are in thesame boat, you see. But take my advice, Lancaster, don't let thisepisode spoil your prospects. Throw up the India scheme, and go homeand marry the earl's daughter."
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
Lady Lancaster was surprised and angry and frightened all in onewhen she heard that Leonora West had refused Lieutenant De Vere.She made him own the truth when he came to make his hasty adieus,and she roundly abused the "pert minx," as she called her, for her"impertinence and presumption."
"Whom does she think she will get? Does she think she will capture anearl or a duke?" she sneered, and De Vere answered, coldly:
"I do not believe that she has any matrimonial designs on any one, LadyLancaster. She returns to America in a very few days."
Lady Lancaster was so surprised that she gave vent to her relief in ahasty exclamation:
"Thank Heaven! And I devoutly wish that she had remained there."
"There are more persons than one who will agree with your ladyshipthere," he said, betrayed into a laugh at her na?vet?.
"Whom?" she exclaimed, with a start.
"Myself for one," he answered. "I am not at liberty to implicate anyone else."
She gave him a savage glance.
"Do you mean my nephew?" she inquired.
"I said I was not at liberty to name any one else," he replied.
Then he went away, and Lady Lancaster straightway confided the factof his rejection to all the ladies in the house. They all agreed withher that Leonora West was an impertinent minx to have refused such asplendid offer, but that it was a narrow escape for Lieutenant De Vereand that he had need to be very thankful over it.
In the meantime, Lady Lancaster's guests grew very curious over hernephew's absence. The earl and his daughter talked of going away. Theyfelt secretly aggrieved and resentful over Lord Lancaster's continuedabsence. It was a palpable slight to them. They did not believe thestory of important business in London.
What business could he have?
Lady Lancaster wrote her nephew a sharp, imperative letter of recall.She was on thorns lest her long-cherished scheme should fail. Sheintimated quite plainly that her patience was exhausted, and that ifhe did not come to terms soon she would never forgive him, and worsestill, she would cut him out of her will.
Lancaster threw that letter angrily into the fire, and swore to himselfthat he would not go near Lancaster. He would go off to India, and shemight buy another husband for her favorite with the money she prized somuch. He would have none of it.
In short, our hero was in a most sullen and intractable mood. His heartwas sorely wounded, for he had loved Leonora with all the strength andpassion of a noble nature. His sorrow for a time completely masteredhim. He said to himself that he could not bear to go back now. He mustwait a little longer.
Then came De Vere with his strange story. Now indeed all was ended,thought the hopeless lover. She was going away, and he would never evensee her again, this bright-eyed, soft-voiced girl who had stolen intohis heart almost unawares, who had been so cruel to him, who had solightly scorned him, and yet whom he loved with all the strong passionof his young manhood.
Once or twice De Vere reiterated his advice that he should go home andmarry Lady Adela, but Lancaster only laughed miserably in his face.
"What, with my heart and soul full of another woman?" he said,bitterly. "No, I can not do that much injustice to beautiful LadyAdela. I respect her too much."
Go where he would, do what he might, the face he loved was ever beforehis fancy. As the time drew near for her departure to America a strangelonging took possession of him. He yearned to see the living face ofthe girl once more, before the wild waves of the blue Atlantic dividedthem forever as widely as if she were in her grave and he in his. Hehad no longer any bitterness or anger toward her in his heart since hehad learned of that sweet sorrow hidden in her young breast--a sorrowakin to his own.
"I should like to see the man who was so cold and hard that he couldnot love her," he said to himself. "He must be a stock or a stoneindeed. Poor little Leonora! I will go down to Lancaster and bid hergood-bye and god-speed on her homeward way. There can be no harm inthat. I must see her once more, or I shall go mad with longing for hersweet, fair face and her soft voice."
So in the first heat of sweltering July he went down to Lancaster Park,intent on sating his restless pain with one last look at the belovedface.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
He thought himself very fortunate that when he crossed the grounds ofLancaster and entered the house, no one saw him. It was just what hewished.
He went straight to the housekeeper's room, and he found Mrs. Westsitting alone in the little sitting-room, going over her account-bookwith a pen and ink. She rose in some perturbation at the unexpectedsight of the master of Lancaster Park.
"I did not know you were in the house, my lord," she said.
"I have just entered it," he replied. "Do not let me disturb you, Mrs.West. I came to see your niece."
"Leonora?" she said, with some surprise. "Oh, dear! I am very sorry,but she is not here;" and she wondered at the sudden paleness thatoverspread his face.
"Not here?" he stammered. "Is she gone, then? I thought--I understoodthat you would go with her to America."
"Oh, yes, so I shall," she answered; "but she is not gone there yet. Idid not mean that. She will be here this evening."
"Where is she now?" he asked, eagerly, and Mrs. West replied:
"She has gone over to the Abbey ruins to make a sketch this morning."
"Thank you," he said, and hurried out of the room with suchprecipitancy that the good soul stared after him in amazement andconsternation.
"Dear me! what has that poor child done now?" she thought, nervously."It is a pity she ever came to Lancaster
Park. She has but a sorry timeof it here. I almost wish she had accepted Lieutenant De Vere. It wouldhave been such a grand match for her, and she is too bright and prettyto remain in my station of life. I wonder what Lord Lancaster can wantwith her. Is he going to scold her for anything she has done?"
But while she propounded these uneasy questions to herself, our herowas striding across the park and lanes and fields toward the Abbeyruins, every other thought swallowed up in the intense longing to seeLeonora again. His heart beat heavily as he came in sight of her, atlast, sitting among the green graves, as he had seen her before, butnot sketching busily now, for her drawing materials lay beside her onthe grass, and her head was bowed on her arm, her face hidden fromsight on her black sleeve.
"Poor child!" he thought, compassionately, "she has a sorrow to grieveover as well as I;" and he stepped softly, almost fearing to intrudeupon the sacredness of her grief, yet loath to turn back again, forsomething drew him irresistibly to her side.
The soft echo of his footstep in the grass startled her. She looked upquickly with a low cry. He saw tears upon her face, and her rosy lipswere quivering like a child's.
"Leonora!" he cried, and knelt down impulsively by her side.
She was so taken by surprise for a moment that she forgot to draw awaythe hands he caught daringly in his. She looked up at him, and said,with a catch in her breath:
"I thought you were in London."
"So I was until to-day; but I came down to bid you good-bye," heanswered, feasting his hungry sight unrestrainedly on the pale beautyof her lifted face.
"Then you knew that I was going away?" she asked.
"Yes; I saw De Vere in town. He told me," he answered; and a prettyblush crept into her cheeks, and her lashes fell. "And so," he went on,half smiling, "you refused my friend, in spite of all my advice to thecontrary?"
She pulled her hands suddenly away.
"Yes, I refused him. Was it worth my while," with a stinging scorn hervoice, "to sell my body and soul for paltry gold?"
"No; you were right not to give the hand while your heart wasanother's," he said, bending down to look into her face that suddenlygrew burning crimson as she cried out, sharply:
"Why do you say that? How dare you? Has Lieutenant De Vere told you--"
"Yes, he has told me that you would not marry him because you lovedanother. He is a thrice better man whoever he may be, Leonora. Howmuch I envy him I need not say," he said, earnestly, carried away bythe passion that filled him.
She looked at him with her gray-blue eyes full of wonder.
"You! Lady Adela's intended husband!" she said, bitterly.
"I am not her intended husband," he answered. "Do you think I am lessnoble than you, Leonora? that I could wrong any one by giving my handwithout my heart? No, I do not love Lady Adela, and I can never be herhusband. Do you know what I was doing up in London, child?"
"How should I know?" she answered.
"Well, I was trying to exchange into a regiment that is _en route_ forIndia. I am going to throw over the twenty thousand a year and run awayfrom England and my pain."
"You are?" she said, drawing a long breath and gazing at him withdilated, wondering eyes. "But why, Lord Lancaster?"
"Can you ask me why?" he asked, bitterly.
"Yes, because I can not understand at all why you are going to India.What pain is it you are running away from?"
He started and looked at her keenly. Was it possible that she did notguess? Had she misunderstood him all along? His heart beat with asudden hope.
"I am fleeing from that misery that the poet has put into immortaldoggerel," he said. "Have you never heard of it, Leonora? That painwhich is
"'Of all pains the greatest pain, To love and not be loved again?'"
She looked at him with a new, strange light in her soft eyes that madehis heart beat tumultuously.
"Yes, I have heard of it," she said; "but I did not know that you werea victim to its pangs. Who is it that you love, Lord Lancaster?"
"Is it possible you do not know?" he asked; and then he saw that hereyes were shining with hope, and her whole graceful form trembling.
He took the small hands again into his, and she did not offer to takethem away.
"I will make a compact with you, Leonora," he said. "If I will tell youwhom I love, will you then tell me to whom you have given your heart?"
"Yes, I will tell you," she replied, with a soft, sweet laugh.
"Listen, then," he said. "I have been in love with you, Leonora, eversince that first day I saw you in New York."
"And I with you," she answered, glowing with happy blushes.
"My darling!" he cried, and caught her in his arms and pressed her tohis beating heart. "Then why have you been so cruel to me all the time?"
"Because I thought you were going to marry Lady Adela, and I was sojealous and unhappy that I misunderstood you all the while," Leonoraconfessed, with shy frankness.
CHAPTER XL.
"Lady Lancaster will be very angry with us, will she not?" askedLeonora, lifting her head from his breast, where it had been resting afew silent, happy moments.
"I have no doubt she will," he replied, with supreme indifference tohis aunt's wrath.
"She will not give you any of her money, I suppose?" pursued the girl.
"No, not a penny, I am sure. But we can do without it, can we not,love?" he asked, fondly.
"But will you never regret that you chose me instead of Lady Adela andyour aunt's fortune? Can you bear poverty for my sake?"
"I shall never regret anything, and for the rest I shall never knowthat I am poor. Having you, my darling, I shall always deem myselfrich," he answered, fondly caressing her.
"And you will never be ashamed of me?" anxiously.
"Never, my darling."
"Nor of poor Aunt West, who is only the housekeeper at Lancaster Park?"
Then indeed he winced, but only for a moment, and he answered bravely:
"She belongs to you, Leonora, and she is, besides, a good and worthywoman. I shall not be ashamed of her, but she must not serve at thePark any more; she shall be raised to a position befitting the aunt ofthe future Lady Lancaster."
"She will leave the Park to-morrow. We are going to London for a week,then we sail for New York," said Leonora.
"Is my bride going to leave me so soon?" he whispered, fondly.
"Yes; but she will come back when you come to New York for her,"answered Leonora, with a blush and a smile.
"That will be in a very short while, then. But why go at all, darling?Couldn't we be married right away?"
"Without my trousseau? No, sir, thank you. Besides, my aunt and I havesome business to attend to in New York, and I want her to see my nativeland and appreciate it."
"When may I come after you, then, my darling? In September?"
"Oh, dear, no!"
"October?"
"No, indeed--that is, I will ask Aunt West," demurely.
"I shall not wait a day longer than October, miss. Do you hearthat?" he says, laughing, but in earnest, for he says to himself,thoughtfully, "The darling has no one but Mrs. West to take care ofher, and the sooner she is married and settled, the better for her."
"You begin to play the tyrant soon," laughs the happy betrothed.
"In revenge for the way you have treated me all this while," he replies.
And then he adds, with a sterner light in his handsome blue eyes:
"I am going to take you home now, Leonora, and present you to LadyLancaster as my promised wife. Are you willing, my darling?"
"I have no objection," she answered, for Leonora, being but human,thought she would rather enjoy this triumph over her enemy.
So they went back to the house, and Lancaster led his love to thelibrary, where one of the servants had told him Lady Lancaster wassitting with Mrs. West, going over the housekeeping books of the latter.
They opened the door and entered. My lady stared at the pair in horrorfor a moment, then
she rose majestically to her feet and struck hergold-headed cane upon the floor with a resounding thump.
"So you are come home at last!" she cried. "But what does this mean?Why have you brought this impertinent minx into my presence?"
"Perhaps you will speak more respectfully of Miss West when I tell youthat she is my promised wife, and the future Lady of Lancaster," hernephew answered sternly.
"The Lady of Lancaster! What! do you mean that you have sacrificed allyour future prospects for this low-born and penniless girl?" cried mylady, growing purple in the face and actually foaming at the lips withfury.
"I have sacrificed nothing, and I have secured my future happiness bymy betrothal," Lord Lancaster answered, proudly.
The old lady stared at him speechless with rage for a few seconds, thenshe struck her cane violently upon the floor again, and burst out withconcentrated wrath:
"Then hear me, you blind, besotted fool! You think you have played mea fine trick, but I'll have my revenge, be sure of that! Not a dollarof my money shall ever go to you! I will leave it all to the next ofkin. And you, Clive Lancaster, may go on earning your beggarly pittancein the army, and your wife may take in soldiers' washing, and yourchildren starve or beg, but I will never throw you a crust to keep youfrom starving, nor a rag to keep you from freezing!"
An indignant retort rose to the young man's lips, but before he couldspeak Leonora's sweet, clear voice rang out upon the silence:
"I hope, Lady Lancaster, that neither myself, my husband, nor mychildren may be reduced to the dire necessity you anticipate. I shallpersuade Captain Lancaster to leave the army and live at LancasterPark. He can well afford to do so without your money, for I am as richas you are."