CHAPTER XXXVIII.VANE TREVOR WALKS DOWN TO SEE MISS VIOLETLooking at himself in his glass next morning, Vane Trevor pronounced thecoup d’œil“awfully seedy. This sort of thing, by Jove, it will never do, it would wear out any fellow; where’s the good in putting off? there’s no screw loose, there’s nothing against me; I hope I stand pretty well here—hang it⸺I’ll walk down to-day,” and he looked over the slopes to sunny Gilroyd, “and if a good opportunity turns up, I’ll speak to Miss Darkwell.”And though he had taken care, in secret mercy to his nerves, to state his resolve hypothetically, his heart made two or three strange throbs and experienced a kind of sinking like that said to attend, on the eve of battle, an order to prepare for action.Accordingly, before twelve o’clock Vane Trevor walked into the porch of Gilroyd, and rang the bell beside the open door, and stood with the gold head of his cane to his chin, looking on the woodlands toward Revington, and feeling as he might have felt in an ominous dream.“Miss Perfect at home?” he inquired of the maid, with a haggard simper.“She was in the drawing-room,” into which room, forgetting the preliminary of announcement, he pushed hisway. She was not there, but he heard her talking to Winnie Dobbs in the gallery.“Just passing by; afraid I’m very troublesome, but I could not resist,” pleaded Vane Trevor, as he glanced over Miss Perfect’s gray silk shoulder, and somewhat old-fashioned collar, toward the door, expecting, perhaps, another apparition.“I’m very glad you’ve come, Mr. Trevor.—Shall we sit down? for I want to ask you to satisfy me upon a point.”This was a day of agitations for Trevor, and his heart made an odd little dance, and a sudden drop, and though he smiled, he felt his cheek grow a little pale.“By Jove!” thought Trevor as he placed himself near Aunt Dinah, “she’ll save me a lot of trouble, and open the subject all in a sentence.”He was leaning against the window case, and the damask curtains, though somewhat the worse of the sun, made a gorgeous drapery about him, as with folded arms, and trying to look perfectly serene, he looked down on Miss Perfect’s face. The lady seemed to have some little difficulty about speaking, and cleared her voice, and looked out of the window for help, and all the time the young man felt very oddly. At last she said—“I had made up my mind not to allude to the subject, but last night, something occurred which has induced me just to ask a question or two.” Aunt Dinah paused; and with rather pale lips, Vane Trevor smiled an assurance that he would be too happy to answer any question which Miss Perfect might please to ask.Again a little silence—again the odd sensation in Vane’s heart, and the same sickening sense of suspense, and he felt he could not stand it much longer.“I said I would not allude again to William Maubray,but I have altered that resolution. I mean, however, to ask but a question or two.”“Oh?” was all that Trevor uttered, but he felt that he could have wished the old woman and William Maubray in a sack at the bottom of his best pond at Revington.“I wish to know, the Kincton Knoxes, aren’t they a leading people rather, in their part of the world?”“Oh, dear, yes. Kincton is one of the best places in the county,” ejaculated Trevor, who being a kinsman, bore a handsome testimony.“And—and—the young lady, Miss Clara Knox, she, I suppose, is—is admired?”“So she is, by Jove—I know,Iadmired her awfully—so admired that the fellows won’t let one another marry her, by Jove!—he, he, he! Very fine girl, though, and I believe her father, or rather her mother, will give her a lot of money.”Miss Perfect looked on the table, not pleased, very thoughtfully, and Vane Trevor looked down at her foreshortened countenance listlessly.“And you spoke, you remember, of an idea that—that in fact it would end in amarriage,” resumed Miss Perfect.“Did I really say? well, but you won’t mention what I say, upon my honour, and quite seriously, I should not wonder a bit. It is not altogether what she said, you know, Mrs. Kincton Knox, I mean, though that was as strong as you could well imagine—but her manner; I know her perfectly, and when she wishes you to understand a thing—and I assure you that’s what she wished me to suppose—and I, really I can’t understand it; it seems to me perfectly incomprehensible, like a sort of infatuation, for she’s one of the sharpest women alive, Mrs.Kincton Knox; but, by Jove, both she and Clara, they seem to have quite lost their heads about Maubray. I never heard anything like it, upon my honour.”And Trevor, who had by this time quite shaken off the chill of his suspense, laughed very hilariously, till Aunt Dinah said, with some displeasure—“For the life of me, I can’t see anything ridiculous in it. William Maubray is better connected than they, and he’s the handsomest young man I ever beheld in my life; and if she has money enough of her own, forboth, I can’t see what objection or difficulty there can be.”“Oh! certainly—certainly not on those grounds; only what amused me was, there’s a disparity; you know—she’s, by Jove! sheis—she’s five years older, and that’s something.”“And—and if itisto be, howsoondo you suppose it likely?” asked Miss Perfect, fixing her eyes anxiously on him.“Well, you know, I know no more than the man in the moon; but if they really mean it, I don’t see what’s to delay it,” answered Trevor.“Because”—hesitated Aunt Dinah, “I have reason to know that if that unfortunate young man—not that I have any reason to care more than anyone else, should marry before the lapse of five years, he will be utterly ruined, and undone by so doing.”Vane Trevor stood expecting an astounding revelation, but Aunt Dinah proceeded—“And therefore asyouare his friend—of course it’s nothing to me—I thought you might as well hear it, and if you chose to take that trouble, let him know,” said Miss Perfect.He looked a little hard at Miss Perfect, and she as steadily on him.“I will, certainly—that is, ifyouthink Iought. But I hope it won’t get me into a scrape with the people there.”“Idothink you ought,” said Miss Perfect.“I—I supposehe’llunderstand the reason?” suggested Vane Trevor, half interrogatively.“If you say—Ithink, if you say—that I said I hadreasontoknow”—and Aunt Dinah paused.Vane Trevor, looking a little amazed, repeated—“I’m to say, you said you had reason to know?”“Yes, and—and—Ithinkhe’ll understand—and if he should not, you may say—a—yes, youmay, it has reached me through Henbane.”“I beg pardon—throughwhat?” said Vane Trevor, inclining his ear.“Henbane,” said Miss Perfect very sharply.“Henbane?”“Yes.”“By Jove!” exclaimed Trevor.A considerable silence ensued, during which a variety of uncomfortable misgivings respecting the state of Miss Perfect’s mind floated through his own. He concluded, however, that there was some language of symbols established between Miss Perfect and her nephew, in which Henbane stood for some refractory trustee, or rich old uncle.So he said, more like himself—“Well, I shan’t forget. I’ll take care to let him know, and you may depend upon me.”
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
VANE TREVOR WALKS DOWN TO SEE MISS VIOLET
VANE TREVOR WALKS DOWN TO SEE MISS VIOLET
VANE TREVOR WALKS DOWN TO SEE MISS VIOLET
Looking at himself in his glass next morning, Vane Trevor pronounced thecoup d’œil“awfully seedy. This sort of thing, by Jove, it will never do, it would wear out any fellow; where’s the good in putting off? there’s no screw loose, there’s nothing against me; I hope I stand pretty well here—hang it⸺I’ll walk down to-day,” and he looked over the slopes to sunny Gilroyd, “and if a good opportunity turns up, I’ll speak to Miss Darkwell.”
And though he had taken care, in secret mercy to his nerves, to state his resolve hypothetically, his heart made two or three strange throbs and experienced a kind of sinking like that said to attend, on the eve of battle, an order to prepare for action.
Accordingly, before twelve o’clock Vane Trevor walked into the porch of Gilroyd, and rang the bell beside the open door, and stood with the gold head of his cane to his chin, looking on the woodlands toward Revington, and feeling as he might have felt in an ominous dream.
“Miss Perfect at home?” he inquired of the maid, with a haggard simper.
“She was in the drawing-room,” into which room, forgetting the preliminary of announcement, he pushed hisway. She was not there, but he heard her talking to Winnie Dobbs in the gallery.
“Just passing by; afraid I’m very troublesome, but I could not resist,” pleaded Vane Trevor, as he glanced over Miss Perfect’s gray silk shoulder, and somewhat old-fashioned collar, toward the door, expecting, perhaps, another apparition.
“I’m very glad you’ve come, Mr. Trevor.—Shall we sit down? for I want to ask you to satisfy me upon a point.”
This was a day of agitations for Trevor, and his heart made an odd little dance, and a sudden drop, and though he smiled, he felt his cheek grow a little pale.
“By Jove!” thought Trevor as he placed himself near Aunt Dinah, “she’ll save me a lot of trouble, and open the subject all in a sentence.”
He was leaning against the window case, and the damask curtains, though somewhat the worse of the sun, made a gorgeous drapery about him, as with folded arms, and trying to look perfectly serene, he looked down on Miss Perfect’s face. The lady seemed to have some little difficulty about speaking, and cleared her voice, and looked out of the window for help, and all the time the young man felt very oddly. At last she said—
“I had made up my mind not to allude to the subject, but last night, something occurred which has induced me just to ask a question or two.” Aunt Dinah paused; and with rather pale lips, Vane Trevor smiled an assurance that he would be too happy to answer any question which Miss Perfect might please to ask.
Again a little silence—again the odd sensation in Vane’s heart, and the same sickening sense of suspense, and he felt he could not stand it much longer.
“I said I would not allude again to William Maubray,but I have altered that resolution. I mean, however, to ask but a question or two.”
“Oh?” was all that Trevor uttered, but he felt that he could have wished the old woman and William Maubray in a sack at the bottom of his best pond at Revington.
“I wish to know, the Kincton Knoxes, aren’t they a leading people rather, in their part of the world?”
“Oh, dear, yes. Kincton is one of the best places in the county,” ejaculated Trevor, who being a kinsman, bore a handsome testimony.
“And—and—the young lady, Miss Clara Knox, she, I suppose, is—is admired?”
“So she is, by Jove—I know,Iadmired her awfully—so admired that the fellows won’t let one another marry her, by Jove!—he, he, he! Very fine girl, though, and I believe her father, or rather her mother, will give her a lot of money.”
Miss Perfect looked on the table, not pleased, very thoughtfully, and Vane Trevor looked down at her foreshortened countenance listlessly.
“And you spoke, you remember, of an idea that—that in fact it would end in amarriage,” resumed Miss Perfect.
“Did I really say? well, but you won’t mention what I say, upon my honour, and quite seriously, I should not wonder a bit. It is not altogether what she said, you know, Mrs. Kincton Knox, I mean, though that was as strong as you could well imagine—but her manner; I know her perfectly, and when she wishes you to understand a thing—and I assure you that’s what she wished me to suppose—and I, really I can’t understand it; it seems to me perfectly incomprehensible, like a sort of infatuation, for she’s one of the sharpest women alive, Mrs.Kincton Knox; but, by Jove, both she and Clara, they seem to have quite lost their heads about Maubray. I never heard anything like it, upon my honour.”
And Trevor, who had by this time quite shaken off the chill of his suspense, laughed very hilariously, till Aunt Dinah said, with some displeasure—
“For the life of me, I can’t see anything ridiculous in it. William Maubray is better connected than they, and he’s the handsomest young man I ever beheld in my life; and if she has money enough of her own, forboth, I can’t see what objection or difficulty there can be.”
“Oh! certainly—certainly not on those grounds; only what amused me was, there’s a disparity; you know—she’s, by Jove! sheis—she’s five years older, and that’s something.”
“And—and if itisto be, howsoondo you suppose it likely?” asked Miss Perfect, fixing her eyes anxiously on him.
“Well, you know, I know no more than the man in the moon; but if they really mean it, I don’t see what’s to delay it,” answered Trevor.
“Because”—hesitated Aunt Dinah, “I have reason to know that if that unfortunate young man—not that I have any reason to care more than anyone else, should marry before the lapse of five years, he will be utterly ruined, and undone by so doing.”
Vane Trevor stood expecting an astounding revelation, but Aunt Dinah proceeded—
“And therefore asyouare his friend—of course it’s nothing to me—I thought you might as well hear it, and if you chose to take that trouble, let him know,” said Miss Perfect.
He looked a little hard at Miss Perfect, and she as steadily on him.
“I will, certainly—that is, ifyouthink Iought. But I hope it won’t get me into a scrape with the people there.”
“Idothink you ought,” said Miss Perfect.
“I—I supposehe’llunderstand the reason?” suggested Vane Trevor, half interrogatively.
“If you say—Ithink, if you say—that I said I hadreasontoknow”—and Aunt Dinah paused.
Vane Trevor, looking a little amazed, repeated—
“I’m to say, you said you had reason to know?”
“Yes, and—and—Ithinkhe’ll understand—and if he should not, you may say—a—yes, youmay, it has reached me through Henbane.”
“I beg pardon—throughwhat?” said Vane Trevor, inclining his ear.
“Henbane,” said Miss Perfect very sharply.
“Henbane?”
“Yes.”
“By Jove!” exclaimed Trevor.
A considerable silence ensued, during which a variety of uncomfortable misgivings respecting the state of Miss Perfect’s mind floated through his own. He concluded, however, that there was some language of symbols established between Miss Perfect and her nephew, in which Henbane stood for some refractory trustee, or rich old uncle.
So he said, more like himself—
“Well, I shan’t forget. I’ll take care to let him know, and you may depend upon me.”