Then what did Lenore do? She walked deliberately to Lord Charles' coat, dropped her bracelet on it, stooped, picked up the bracelet, and abstracted the letter, and concealing the latter in her sunshade, glided toward the house.
With fast beating heart she gained her own room and locked the door.
Then she drew the letter from her sunshade and eyed it as a thief might eye a safe in which lay the treasure he coveted.
Then she rang the bell and ordered some hot water.
"I have sprained my wrist," she said, in explanation, "and I want the water very hot."
The maid brought the water and offered to bathe the wrist, but Lady Lenore sent her away, and locked the door again.
Then she held the envelope over the steaming jug and watched the paper part.
Even then she hesitated, even as the note lay open to her.
This which she contemplated doing was the meanest act a mortal could be guilty of, and hitherto she had scorned all baseness and meanness. But love is stronger than a sense of right and wrong in some women, and it overcame her scruples.
With a sudden compression of the lips she drew out the note and read it, and as she read it her face paled. Every word of endearment stabbed her straight to the heart, and made her writhe.
"My darling!" she murmured; "my darling! How he must love her!" and for a moment she sat with the letter in her hand overcome by jealousy and misery. Then, with a start, she roused herself. Let come what might, the thing should not happen. This girl should not be Leycester's wife.
But how to prevent it? She sat and thought as the precious moments ticked themselves out into eternity, and suddenly she remembered Jasper Adelstone—remembered him with a scornful contempt, but still remembered him.
"Any port in a storm," she said; "a drowning man clings to a straw, and he is no straw."
Then she inclosed the letter in its envelope, and taking out the writing-case wrote on a scented sheet of paper: "Meet me by the weir at eight o'clock." This she inclosed in an envelope,and addressed to Jasper Adelstone, Esq., and with the two notes in her hand returned to the tennis lawn.
They were still playing—Lord Charles absorbed in the game, and once more quite oblivious of the letter.
She stood and watched them for a minute; then she went and sank down beside the jacket, and hiding the movements with her sunshade, restored Leycester's letter to its place.
A few minutes afterward the single line she had written was on its way to Jasper.
"I amFrank Etheridge," said Frank, looking up at Lord Charles, as the latter stopped at the little gate in the lane. "Yes, I am Frank Etheridge." And as he repeated the sentence, a shy, almost a timid, apprehensive expression came into his eyes.
"All right," said Lord Charles, looking round with a most inconsistent look of caution on his frank, handsome face. "Then I have a letter for you."
"For me!" said Frank, and his face paled.
Lord Charles eyed him with astonishment.
"What is the matter?" he said. "What are you alarmed at? I am not a bailiff—I am only Mercury." And he chuckled at the joke at his own expense. "I have a letter for you—from my friend Lord Leycester."
Frank's face lit up, and he held out his hand promptly.
Lord Charles took the letter from his pocket and turned it over quickly.
"It's got tumbled and creased," he said. "Fact is, I ought to have given it to you an hour or two ago, but I was led on to tennis and forgot it."
"Oh, it's all right," said Frank, eagerly. "I am very much obliged, sir. Won't you come in? My father and my cousin Stella will be glad to see you."
But Lord Charles shook his head, and glanced at the pretty cottage, with its air of peace which surrounded it, with something like a pang of remorse.
"I do hope this will all turn out right," he thought. "Leycester means well, but he is as likely as not to bungle it in one of his mad humors!" Then aloud, he said, "No, I won't come in, but——" he hesitated a moment, "but will you tell your cousin—Miss Etheridge, that—that——" Simple Lord Charles hesitated and took off his hat, and stared at the maker's name for a moment. "Well, look here, you know, if either you or she want any assistance—want a friend, you know—come to me. I shall be at the Hall. You understand, don't you? My name is Guildford."
Frank nodded, and took Lord Charles's extended hand.
"Thank you, very much, Lord Guildford," he said.
And Lord Charles, with another rather rueful glance at the cottage, retired.
Frank tore open the envelope and devoured the contentsof the short and pregnant note, then he went in search of Stella.
She was sitting at the organ, not playing, but touching the keys with her fingers, a rapt look of meditation on her face. Mr. Etheridge was hard at work making the best of the golden evening light.
Stella started as the boy came in, and would have spoken, but he put his finger to his lips and beckoned her.
They both passed out without attracting the attention of the absorbed artist, and Frank drew Stella into the garden, and to a small arbor at the further end. She looked at his flushed, excited face with a smile.
"What does this mysterious conduct mean, Frank?" she asked.
He put his arm round her and drew her to a seat.
"I've got something for you, Stella," he said. "What will you give me for it? It is worth—well, untold treasure, but I'll be satisfied with a kiss."
She bent and kissed his forehead.
"Of course it is nothing," she said, with a laugh; but as he took the letter from his pocket and held it up her face changed. "What is it Frank?"
He put the letter in her hand, and, with an instinctive delicacy got up and walked away.
"Read it, Stel," he said. "I'll be back directly."
Stella took the letter and opened it. When Frank came back she was sitting with the open letter in her hand, her face very pale, her eyes filled with a strange light.
"Well!" he said.
"Oh Frank," she breathed, "I cannot do it! I cannot!"
"Cannot!" he exclaimed. "You must! Why, Stella, of what are you afraid? I shall be with you."
She shook her head slowly.
"It is not that. I am not afraid," and there was a touch of pride in her voice. "Do you think I am afraid of—of Leycester?"
"No!" he retorted. "I should think not! I would trust him, if I were in your place, to the end of the world. I know what he has asked you to do, Stel, and you—we—must do it!"
Stella looked at him.
"And uncle!"
The boy colored, but his eyes met hers steadily.
"Well, it will not hurt him! He will not mind. He likes Lord Leycester, and when we come back and tell him he will be only too grateful that it is all over without any fuss or trouble. You know that, Stel!"
She did know it, but her heart still misgave her. With a touch of color in her pale face at the thought of what "it" meant, she said gently. "He has been a father to me, Frank; ah, you do not know!"
"Yes, I do," he said, shortly; "but a husband is more than a father, Stella. And my father won't be any the less fond of you because you are Lady Leycester Wyndward!"
"Oh, hush—hush!" breathed Stella, glancing round as if she feared the very shrubs and flowers might hear.
Frank threw himself beside her, and laying his hand on her arm, looked up into her beautiful face with eager entreaty.
"You will go, Stel; you will do what he asks!" and Stella looked down at him with gentle wonder. Leycester himself could not have pleaded his own cause more earnestly.
"Don't you see, Stel?" he said, answering her look, for she had not spoken; "I would do anything for him—anything! He risked his life for me, but it is not only that; it is because he has treated me so—so—well, I can't explain; but I would do anything for him, Stella. I—I love you! you know; but—but I feel as if I shouldhateyou if you refused to do what he asks!"
Stella's eyes glistened; it made her heart throb to hear the boy's championship of the man she loved.
"Besides," he continued; "why should you hesitate? For it is for your own happiness—for the happiness of us all! Think! you will be the future Countess of Wyndward, the mistress of the Hall."
Stella looked at him reproachfully.
"Frank!"
"Yes, I know you don't care about that, neither do I much, but other people will. My father will be glad—he could not help being so, and then you will be safe."
"Safe? What do you mean?" asked Stella.
He hesitated. Then he looked up at her with an angry resentful flash in his blue eyes.
"Stel! I was thinking of that fellow Adelstone. I don't like him! I hate him, in fact; and I hate him all the more because he has set his mind upon having you."
Stella smiled and shook her head.
"Oh, of course you can't see any harm in him. It's quite right you shouldn't—you are a girl, and don't know the world; but I know something of men, and I say that Jasper Adelstone is not a man to be trusted."
"Idon't like him," said Stella, in a low tone, "but I am quite 'safe,' as you call it, without marry—without doing what you and Leycester wish."
"I don't know," he muttered, gloomily. "At any rate, youwouldbe safe then, and—and, Stella, youmustgo. See, now, Leycester has trusted you to me—has placed this in my hands. It is as if he said, 'I saved your life—you promised to help me. Here is something to do—do it!' And I will. You will go. Think, Stel!—A few short hours and you will be Lady Leycester!"
She did think of it, and her heart beat tumultuously.
Yes, she would be safe not only from Jasper Adelstone, but from Lady Lenore, whom she feared more than she did twenty Jasper Adelstones. Leycester would be her own, her very own; and though she did not care much for the Wyndward coronet, she did care for him.
She covered her face with her hands, and sat quite motionless for a few minutes, the boy watching her eagerly, impatiently;then she dropped her hands, and looked down at him with the quiet, grave, resolute smile which he knew so well.
"Yes, Frank, I will do it," was all she said.
He kissed her hand gratefully.
"Think it is Lord Leycester thanking you, Stel," he whispered. "And now for the preparations. You must pack a small bag, and I will do the same, and then I must take them down the lane and hide them; it wouldn't do to go out of the house in the morning with the bags in our hands—Mrs. Penfold would raise the neighborhood, and we must stroll out as if we were strolling down to the river. But there!"—he broke off, for he saw Stella's face, always so eloquent, beginning to show signs of irresolution—"leave it all to me—I'll see to it! Lord Leycester knew he could trust me."
Stella sat for a few minutes in silence, thinking of the old man who had received her in her helplessness, who had loved and treated her as a daughter, and whom she was about to deceive.
Her heart smote her keenly, but still Frank had spoken the truth—husband was more than father, and Leycester would be her husband.
She stooped and kissed the boy.
"I must go in now, Frank," she said. "Do not say any more. I will go, but I cannot talk of it."
She went in; the dusk was falling, and the old man stood beside his easel eying it wistfully.
She went and drew him away.
"No more to-night, uncle," she said, in tones that quivered dangerously. "Come and sit down; come and sit and watch the river, as you sat the day I came; do you remember?"
"Yes—yes, my dear," he murmured, sinking into the chair, and taking the pipe she filled for him. "I remember the day. It was a happy day for me; it would be a miserable day the day you left me, Stella!"
Stella hid her face on his shoulder, and her arm went round his neck.
He smoothed her hair in silence.
"Where is Frank?" he asked, dreamily.
"In the garden. Shall I call him? Dear Frank! He is a dear boy, uncle!"
"Yes," he answered, musingly, then he roused slightly. "Yes, Frank is a good boy. He has changed greatly; I have to thank you for that too, my dear!"
"Me, uncle?"
The old man nodded, his eyes fixed on the distant lights of the Hall.
"Yes, it is your influence, Stella. I have watched and noticed it. There is no one in the world who has so much power over him. Yes, he is a good boy now, thanks to you!"
What could she say? Her heart throbbed quickly. Her influence! and she was now going to help him to deceive his father—for her sake!
In silence she hid her face, and a tear rolled down her cheek and fell upon his arm.
"Uncle," she murmured, "you know I love you! You know that! You will always remember and believe that, whatever—whatever happens."
He nodded all unsuspectingly, and smiled.
"What is going to happen, Stella?" he asked; but even as he asked his gaze grew dreamy and absent, and she, looking in his face, was silent.
As the clock struck the hour Jasper Adelstone threaded his way through the wood, and stood concealed behind the oak by the weir.
He had not spent a pleasant time since the avowal of his love to Stella, and her refusal. Most men would have been daunted and discouraged at such a refusal, so scornfully, so decidedly given, but Jasper Adelstone was not the sort to be so easily balked. Opposition only served to whet his appetite and harden his resolution.
He had set his mind upon gaining Stella; he had set his mind upon balking Lord Leycester, and he was not to be turned from his purpose by her refusing his addresses or the petulance of the boy who had chosen to insult and set him at defiance.
But he had passed a bad time of it, and was meditating a renewal of the attack when Lady Lenore's note was brought to him. Although it bore no signature, he knew from whence it came, and he knew that something had happened of importance or she would not have sent for him.
Another man might have vented his spite, and taken revenge for the haughty insolence displayed by her on their former meeting, by keeping her waiting, but Jasper Adelstone was not altogether a mean man, and certainly not such a fool as to risk an advantage for the sake of gratifying a little private malice.
He was punctual to the minute, and stood watching the weir and the path by turns, with a face that was naturally calm and self-possessed, though in reality he was burning with impatience.
Presently he heard the rustle of a dress, and saw her coming swiftly and gracefully through the trees. She wore a dark dress of some soft stuff, that clung to her supple figure and awoke for a moment his sense of admiration, but only for a moment; bad as he was, he was faithful and of single purpose; he had no thought of anyone but Stella. If Lady Lenore had laid her rank and her wealth at his feet he would have turned from them.
Lenore came down the path, neither looking to the right nor the left, but straight before her, her head held up haughtily and her whole gait as full of pride and conscious power as if she were treading the floor of a London ball-room. Even in doing a mean thing, she could not do it meanly. Arrived at the weir she stood for a moment looking down at the water, her gloved hand resting on the wooden sill, and Jasper watching her, could not but wonder at her calm self-possession.
"And yet," he thought, "she has more at stake than I. She has a coronet—and the man she loves," and the thought gave him courage, as he came out and stood before her, raising his hat.
Sheturned and inclined her head haughtily, and waited, as if for him to speak, but Jasper remained silent. She had sent for him; he was here!
At last she spoke.
"You received my note, Mr. Adelstone?"
"I am here," he said, with a slight smile.
She bit her lip, her pride revolting at his presence, at his very tone.
"I sent for you," she said, after a pause, and in the coldest tone, "because I have some information which I thought would interest you."
"Your ladyship is very good," he said.
"And because," she went on, scorning to accept his thanks, "I thought you might be of service."
He inclined his head. He would not meet her half way—would not help her. Let her tell him why she had sent for him, and he would throw himself into the case, not till then.
"The last time that we met you said words which I am not likely to have forgotten."
"I have not forgotten them," he said, "and I am prepared to stand by them."
"You profess to be willing—to be eager to prevent a certain occurrence?"
"If you mean the marriage of Lord Leycester and Stel—Miss Etheridge, I am more than willing; I am determined to prevent it!"
"You speak with great confidence," she said.
"I am always confident, Lady Lenore," he said. "It is by confidence that great things are achieved; this is only a small one."
"And yet it may be beyond your power to achieve," she said, scornfully.
"I think not," he retorted, quietly and gravely.
"Be that as it may," she said, "I have come here this evening to place in your hands a piece of information respecting the girl in whom you profess to take an interest."
The blood came to his pale face, and his eyes gleamed with sudden resentment.
"By 'the girl,' do you refer to Miss Stella Etheridge?" he said, quietly. "If so, permit me to remind your ladyship that she is a lady!"
Lady Lenore made a gesture of haughty indifference.
"Call her what you please," she said, coldly, insolently. "I did refer to her."
"And to the man in whom you take an interest?" he said, with an insolence that matched her own.
The dark red flamed in her face, and she looked at him.
"That is a side of the question which we will not enter upon, if you please, Mr. Adelstone," she said.
"I am to understand, then," he said, with quiet scorn, "thatyou came here this evening by your own appointment to do me a service. Is that so?"
He had roused her at last.
"Understand, think what you will," she said, in a low, strange voice; "let there be no parley between us. I wanted to see you and sent for you, and you are here, let that suffice. You wish to prevent the marriage of Lord Leycester andthe ladywhom we saw him with at this spot. You speak confidently of your power to do so; you will have a speedy opportunity of testing that power, for Lord Leycester intends marrying her to-morrow, or at latest the next day."
He did not start, neither did he turn pale, but he looked at her calmly, fixedly; she knew that her shaft had told home, and she stood and watched and enjoyed.
"How do you know this?" he asked, quietly, in a very low voice.
She paused. It was a bitter humiliation to have to admit to this man, whom she regarded as the dust under her feet, that she, the Lady Lenore, had stooped so low as to steal and read a letter addressed to another person, and that person her rival—but it had to be admitted.
"I know it because he wrote and made arrangements for her flight and their clandestine meeting."
"How do you know it?" he asked, and his voice was dry and harsh.
She paused a moment.
"Because I saw the letter," she said, eying him defiantly.
He smiled—even in his agony and fury he smiled at her humiliation.
"You have indeed done much in my service," he said, with a sneer.
"Yours!" came fiercely to her lips; then she made a gesture of contempt, as if he were beneath her resentment.
"You saw the letter," he said. "What were the arrangements? When and where was she to meet him? Curse him!" he ground out between his teeth.
"She is to go to London by the eleven o'clock train to-morrow, and he will meet her and take her to 24 Bruton Street," she said, curtly.
He choked back the oath that came to his lips.
"Meet him, and alone!" he muttered, the sweat breaking out on his forehead, his lips writhing.
"No, not alone; a boy, her cousin, is to accompany them."
"Ah!" he said, and a malignant smile curled his lips; "I can scotch that small snake; but him—Lord Leycester!" and his hands clinched.
He took a turn in the narrow path, and then came back to her.
"And afterward?" he asked. "What is to follow?"
She shook her head with contemptuous indifference, and leant against the wooden rail, looking down at the bubbling, seething water.
"I do not know. I imagine, as the boy accompanies her, that he will get a special license, and—marry her. But, perhaps"—andshe glanced round at his white face with a malicious smile—"perhaps the boy is a mere blind, and Lord Leycester will dispose of him."
"And then?"
"Then," she said, slowly. "Well, Lord Leycester's character is tolerably well known; in all probability he will not find it necessary to make the girl—I beg your pardon! the young lady—the future Countess of Wyndward."
She had gone too far. As the cruel, fearful words left her lips in all their biting, merciless scorn and contempt, he sprang upon her and seized her by the arm.
Her feet slipped, and she turned and clung to him, half her body hanging over the white foaming water.
For a moment they stood there, his gleaming eyes threatening death into hers, then, with a sudden long breath as if he had mastered his murderous impulse, he stepped backward, and drew her with him into safety.
"Take care!" he said, wiping the perspiration from his white forehead with a trembling hand. "Your ladyship nearly went too far! You forget that I love this girl, as you call her, though she is an angel of light and a star of nobility beside you, who stoop to open letters and utter slander! Take care!"
She eyed him with a cruel scorn in her eyes and on her lips, that were white and shamed.
"You would murder me," she said.
He laughed a low, dry laugh.
"I would murder anyone who spoke of her as you spoke," he said, with quiet intensity. "So be warned, my lady. For the future, teach your proud temper respect when it touches her name. Besides"—and he made a gesture as of contempt—"it was a foolish lie. You know that he intended nothing of the kind; you know that she is too pure even for his dastardly heart to compass her destruction. I imagine it is that which makes you hate her so. Is it not? No matter. Now that you are warned, and that you have learnt that I, Jasper Adelstone, am no mere slave to dance or writhe at your pleasure, we will return to the purport of the meeting. Will you not sit down?" and he pointed to the weir stage.
She was trembling from sheer physical weakness, combined with impotent rage and fury, but she would rather have died than obey him.
"Go on," she said. "What have you to say?"
"This," he returned. "That this marriage must be prevented, and that Miss Etheridge's good name must be preserved and protected. I can prevent this marriage even now, at the last hour. I will do so, on the condition that you give me your promise that you will never while life lasts speak of this. I have not much fear that you will do so; even you will hesitate before you proclaim to a third person your capability of opening another person's letters!"
"I promise," she said, coldly. "And how will you prevent this? You do not know the man against whom you intend topit yourself. Beware of him! Lord Leycester is a man who will not be trifled with."
"Thanks" he retorted. "You are very kind to warn me, especially as you would very much like to see me at Lord Leycester's feet. But I need no warning. I deal with her, not with him. How, is my affair."
She rose.
"I will go," she said, coldly.
"Stay," he said; "you have got your part to do!"
She eyed him with haughty surprise.
"I?"
He nodded.
"Let me think for a moment," and he took a turn on the path, then he came back and stood beside her.
"This is your part," he said, in low, distinct tones, "and remember that the stake you are playing for is as great and greater than mine. I am playing for love, you are playing for love, and for wealth, and rank, and influence, all that makes life worth living for, for such as you."
"You are insolent!"
"No, I am simply candid. Between us two there can be no further by-play or concealment. If she obeys this command of his, and—" and he groaned—"I fear she will obey it! they will start by the eleven o'clock train, and he will await them at the London terminus. They must start by that train but they must not reach the terminus."
She started, and eyed him in the dusk.
He smiled sardonically.
"No, I do not take extreme measures until they are absolutely necessary, Lady Lenore. It is an easy matter to prevent them reaching the terminus, a very easy one—it is only a matter of a forged note."
Her lips moved.
"A forged note?"
He nodded.
"Yes; having bidden her take a decided course, he must write and alter his instructions. Do you not understand?"
She was silent, watching him.
"A note must come from him—it will be better to write to the boy, because he is not familiar with Lord Leycester's hand-writing—telling them to get out at the station before London, at Vauxhall. They are to get out and go to the entrance, where they will find a brougham, which will take them to him. You understand?"
"I understand," she said. "But the note—who is to forge—write it?"
He smiled at her with malignant triumph.
"You."
"I?"
He smiled again.
"Yes, you. Who so well able to do it? You are an adept at manipulating correspondence, remember, my lady!"
She winced, and her eyes blazed under their lowered lids.
"You know his hand-writing, you can easily obtain access to his writing materials; the paper and envelope will bear the Wyndward crest. The note can be delivered by a servant from the Hall."
She was silent, overwhelmed by the power of his cunning, and a reluctant admiration of his resource and ready ingenuity took possession of her. As he had said, he was no slave—no puppet to be worked at will.
"You see," he said, after allowing a moment for his scheme to sink into her brain, "the note will be delivered almost at the last moment, at the carriage door, as the train starts. You will do it?"
She turned away with a last effort.
"I will not!"
"Good," he said. "Then I will find some other means. Stella Etheridge shall never be Lord Leycester's wife; but neither shall a certain Lady Lenore Beauchamp."
She turned upon him with a scornful smile.
"To-morrow, when he stands balked and discomfited, filled with impotent rage, and sees me carry her off before his eyes, I will give him something to console him. This little note to wit, and a full account ofyourshare in this conspiracy which robs him of his prey."
"You will not dare!" she breathed, her head erect, her eyes blazing.
"Dare!" and he laughed. "What is there to dare? Come, my lady! It is not my fault if you remain in ignorance of the nature of the man you are dealing with. Work with me and I will serve you, desert me—for it would be desertion—and I will thwart you. Which is it to be? You will write and send the note!"
She moved her hand.
"What else?"
A gleam of triumph shot from his small eyes. He thought for a moment.
"Only this" he said, "and it is your welfare that I am now thinking of. When Lord Leycester returns from his fruitless errand, he will be in a fit state for consolation. You can give it to him. I have greatly over-rated the ingenuity and tact of Lady Lenore Beauchamp if that tact and ingenuity does not enable her to bring Lord Leycester Wyndward to her feet before the month has passed."
Pale and humiliated, but still meeting his sneering contemptuous gaze with steadfast eyes, she inclined her head.
"Is that all?"
"That is all," he said. "I can rely on you. Yes, I think—I am sure I can. After all, our interests are mutual!"
She gathered her shawl round her, and moved toward the path.
He raised his hat.
"When next we meet, Lady Lenore, it will be as strangers who have nothing in common. The past will have been wiped outfrom both our minds and our lives. I shall be the chosen husband of Stella Etheridge and you will be the Lady Trevor and future Countess of Wyndward. I never prophesy in vain, my lady; I never prophesied more confidently than I do now. Good-night."
She did not return his greeting—scarcely looked at him, but glided quietly into the darkness.
Sleepkept afar off from Stella's eyelids that night. The momentous morrow loomed before her, at one moment filling her with a nameless dread, at another suffusing her whole being with an equally nameless ecstasy.
Could it be possible that to-morrow—in a few hours—she would be Leycester's wife? There was enough in the reflection to banish sleep for a week.
Let us do her justice. Love and not ambition was the sentiment that moved and agitated her. It was not the thought of the title and the wealth which awaited her, not the future Wyndward coronet which set her trembling and her heart throbbing, but the reflection that Leycester, her lover, her ideal of all that was great and noble, and manfully beautiful, would be her own, all her own.
At an early hour she heard Frank wandering up and down outside her door, and at last he knocked.
"Are you getting up, Stel?" he asked, in a whisper.
Stella opened the door and stood before him in her plain stuff dress, which Frank was wont to declare became her better than the satins and silks of a duchess, and he looked up at her with an admiring nod.
"That's right!" he said. "I've been up ages. I've taken my bag and hidden it in the lane. Is yours ready?"
She gave him a small handbag—gave it with a certain reluctance that hung about her still; but he took it eagerly.
"That's a good girl! It isn't too big! I can carry both of them. Keep up your spirits, Stel!" he added, smiling encouragingly, as he stole off with the bag.
The warning was not altogether unnecessary, for Stella, when she came down stairs and found the old man standing before his easel, his white locks stirred by the light wind which came through the open window, felt very near tears.
It was a great blot on her happiness that she could not go to him and throw her arms round his neck and say, "Uncle, to-day I am to be married to Lord Leycester; give me your blessing!"
As it was she went up to him and kissed him with more than her usual caressing tenderness.
"How quietly happy you always are, dear," she said, with a little tremulous undertone in her voice. "You will always be happy while you have your art, uncle."
"Eh!" he said, patting her arm, and letting his eye wander over her face. "Yes, art is long, life is short, Stella. Happy!yes; but I like to have you as well as my art. Two good things in life should make a man content."
"You have Frank, too," she said, as she poured out his coffee and drew him to the table.
Frank came in and breakfast proceeded. They were all very silent; the old man rapt in dreams, as usual—the two young ones stilled by the weight of their guilty secret.
Once or twice Frank pressed Stella's feet under the table encouragingly, and when they rose and Stella went to the window, he followed her and whispered:
"Good news, Stel!"
She turned her eyes upon him.
"I've just learned that the fellow Adelstone has gone to London. I was half afraid that he might turn up at the last moment and spoil our plans; but the groom at the vicarage, whom I just met, told me that Jasper Adelstone had been summoned to London on business."
Stella felt a sense of relief, though she smiled.
"Mr. Adelstone is yourbête noire, Frank," she said.
He nodded.
"I'd rather have his room than his company, any day." Then, after a pause, he added, "I don't think we'd better start together, Stel. I'll walk on directly, and you can follow. Whatever you do, avoid a collision with Mrs. Penfold; her eyes are sharp, and there's something in your face this morning that would set her curiosity on thequi vive."
A few moments afterward he left the room, and Stella was left alone. Her heart beat fast, and, try as she would, she could not keep her eyes from the silent, patient figure at the easel, and at last she went up and stood beside him.
"You seem restless this morning, my child," he said. "Meditating any secret crime?" And he smiled.
Stella started guiltily.
"I wonder what you would say, what you would think, uncle," she murmured, with a little laugh that bordered on the hysterical, "if I were to do anything wrong—if I were to deceive you in anything?"
He stepped back to look at his picture.
"I should say, my dear, that the last shred of faith and trust in women to which I have clung had given way, and landed me in despair."
"No, no! Don't say that!" she said, quickly.
He looked at her with a sad smile.
"My dear," he answered, "I do not speak without cause. I have reason to be incredulous as to the faith and honesty of women. But my trust in you is as limitless as the sky yonder. I don't think you will destroy it, Stella," and he turned to his picture again.
The tears came into Stella's eyes, and she clung to his arm in silent remorse.
"Uncle!" she said, brokenly, then she stopped.
The clock chimed the half-hour; it was time that she started, if she intended to obey Leycester.
Unconsciously the old man helped her.
"You look pale this morning, my dear," he said, patting her shoulder. "Go and run in the meadows and get some color on your cheeks; I miss it."
Stella took up her hat, which was generally lying about ready to be snatched up, and kissed him without a word, and left the room.
Five minutes afterward she passed out into the lane and hurried toward the road.
Frank was waiting for her with boyish impatience.
"I thought you were never coming!" he exclaimed. "We haven't over much time," and he slung the two bags together and led the way; but Stella paused a moment to look back with a pang at her heart, and it was not until Frank seized her arm that she moved toward the railway station.
But once there, when the tickets were taken, the excitement buoyed her up. Frank, with the two bags, was perpetually on the alert, watching for someone they knew, and preparing to meet them with some excuse.
But no one of the village people appeared on the platform, and much to Frank's relief, the train drew up.
With all the pride of a chief conspirator and guardian, he put Stella into a carriage and was stepping in after her, when a groom came up to the door and touched his hat.
"Mr. Etheridge—Mr. Frank Etheridge, sir?" he said, respectfully.
Frank stared, but the man seemed prepared for some little hesitation, and without waiting for an answer, thrust a note into Frank's hand.
"From Lord Guildford, sir," he said.
The train moved off, and Frank tore open the envelope.
"Why, Stella," he exclaimed, in an excited whisper, though they were alone in the carriage, "it is from Lord Leycester. Look here! he wants us to get out at the station before London—at Vauxhall—he has changed his plans slightly," and he held the note out to her.
Stella took it. It was written on paper bearing the Wyndward crest; the hand-writing was exactly like that of Lord Leycester. No suspicion of its genuineness crossed her mind for a moment, but yet she said:
"But—Frank—isn't Lord Leycester in London?"
Frank thought a moment.
"Yes," he said; "but he must have sent this down to Lord Guildford; sent it down by special messenger—special train perhaps. It wouldn't matter to him what trouble or expense he took. And yet how careful he is. He asks us to destroy it at once. Tear it up, Stella, and throw it out of the window."
Stella read the note again, and then slowly and reluctantly tore it into small fragments and dropped it out of the window.
"Of course we must stop," said Frank. "I think I know what it is. Something had prevented him from meeting us, and he thought you would rather get out at a nearer station than gothrough the crowd at the terminus. Isn't it thoughtful and considerate of him?"
"He is always thoughtful and considerate," said Stella, in a low voice.
Then Frank launched forth in a pæan of praise.
There was nobody like Leycester; nobody so handsome and so brave or noble.
"You'll be the happiest girl in the whole world, Stel," he exclaimed, his blue eyes alight with excitement. "Think of it. And, Stella, you will let me see you sometimes; you will let me come and stay with you?"
And Stella, with a moist look about her eyes, put her hand on his arm and murmured:
"Where my home may be, there will be a sister's welcome for you, Frank."
"Don't be afraid I shall be a nuisance, Stel," he said. "I shan't bore you for long. I shall only want to come and see you and share your happiness; and I don't think Lord Leycester will mind."
And Stella smiled as she thought in her innermost heart how sure she was of Lord Leycester not minding.
The train was an express one, and stopped at very few stations, but when those stoppages occurred, Frank, in his character of guardian, always drew the curtains and kept a watch for intruders, notwithstanding that he had told the guard to lock the door.
"You see, it isn't as if you were an ordinary looking girl," he explained; "a man wouldn't get a glimpse of you without wanting to take second, and it's best to be careful. I'm engaged to watch over you, and I must do it."
He was so happy, so boyishly gratified at his own importance, that Stella could not help laughing.
"I believe you are thoroughly enjoying the wickedness of the thing, Frank," she said, with a little sigh that had not much of unhappiness.
"No," he said; "but I want to hear Lord Leycester say, 'Thank you, Frank,' and to see him smile when he says it. Do you think he will let me go with you, or will he send me back, Stel?"
Stella shook her head.
"I do not know," she answered; "I feel like a person groping in the dark. Go with us! Yes, you must go with us!" she added. "Frank, you must go with me!"
"I'll stay with you till doomsday, and go to the end of the world with you," he responded, "if he will let me!"
It seemed a long journey to both of them; to Frank, in his impatience; to Stella, in the whirl of excited and conflicting emotions. But at last they reached Vauxhall.
Frank got the door unlocked and gave up the tickets; then he stepped out on to the platform, telling Stella to remain in the carriage for a moment while he examined the ground.
But there was not much need for caution; as he stepped out, a thin, strange-looking old man came up to him.
"Mr. Etheridge!" he asked.
Frank replied in the affirmative.
The old man nodded.
"All right, sir; the brougham is waiting;" then he looked round expectantly, and Frank went and got Stella out.
The old man just glanced at her, not curiously, but in a mechanical sort of way, as if he were a machine, and he turned toward the carriage and took up the bags.
Stella laid her hand on Frank's arm with a questioning gesture; it was not exactly one of fear or of suspicion, but a strange, instinctive commingling of both sensations.
"Ask him, Frank!" she murmured.
Frank nodded, understanding her in a moment, and stopped the strange old man.
"Wait a moment," he said; "you come from——"
The man looked round.
"Better not mention names here, sir," he said. "I am obeying my orders. The brougham is waiting outside."
"It is all right," answered Frank; "he knows my name. He is quite right to be careful."
They followed the man down the stairs; a brougham was in waiting, as he had said, and he put the bags inside and held the door open for them to enter.
Stella paused—even at that moment she paused with the same instinctive feeling of distrust—but Frank whispered, "Be quick," and she entered.
The old man closed the door.
"You know where to drive," said Frank, in a low voice.
"I know, sir," he said, in the same expressionless, apathetic fashion, and mounted to the box.
Stella looked at the crowded streets through which they drove at a rapid pace, and a strange feeling of helplessness took possession of her. She would not own to herself that she was disappointed at Leycester's not meeting her, but his absence filled her with a vague alarm and disquietude, which she mentally assured herself were foolish and unwoman-like.
But the vastness and strangeness of the great city overwhelmed her.
"Do you know where Bruton street is?" she asked, in a low voice.
"No," said Frank; "but it must be in the West-end somewhere, of course. He must be going to Leycester's rooms. I wonder what prevented him from meeting us."
Stella wondered too, little dreaming that Leycester was pacing up and down the platform at Waterloo at that moment, and impatiently awaiting the arrival of the train that was, he thought, to bring his love.
"I expect," said Frank, "that something turned up at the last moment—something to do with the ceremony."
A sudden dash of color came into Stella's face, but it went again the next moment, and she leant back and watched the people hurrying along the streets, with eyes that scarcely saw them.
The brougham, a well appointed one, driven by a man in plain livery, seemed to wind about a great deal and cover a long stretch of ground, but at last it drove under an archway and into a quiet square, and stopped before one of a series of tall and dingy-looking houses.
Frank let down the window as the old man opened the door.
"Is this Bruton street?" said Frank.
"Yes, sir," said the man, quietly.
Frank stepped out and looked around.
"These are lawyers' offices," he said.
"Quite right, sir," was the response. "The gentleman is waiting for you."
"You mean——" said Frank, inquiringly.
"Lord Leycester Wyndward," he replied.
Frank turned to Stella.
"It is all right," he said, in a low voice.
Stella got out and looked round. The air of quietude and gloomy depression seemed to strike her, but she put her hand on Frank's arm, and then followed the man into the doorway.
"Come as gently as you can, sir," he muttered. "It's better the young lady shouldn't be seen."
Frank nodded, and they passed up the stairs. Frank threw a glance at the numerous doors.
"They are lawyers' chambers," he said, in a low voice. "I think I understand; it is something—some deed or other—Leycester wants you to sign."
Stella did not speak. The chill which had fallen on her as she alighted seemed to grow keener.
Suddenly the man stopped before a door, the name on which had been covered over with a sheet of paper.
Could they have seen through it, and read the name of Jasper Adelstone, there would have been time to draw back, but unsuspectingly they followed the man in, the door closed, and unseen by them, was locked.
"This way, sir," said Scrivell, and he opened the inner door and ushered them in.
"If you'll take a seat for a moment, sir," he said, putting two chairs forward, and addressing Frank, "I will tell him you have arrived," and he went out.
Stella sat down, but Frank went to the window and looked out, then he came back to her restlessly and excitedly.
"I wonder where he is—why he does not come?" he said, impatiently.
Stella looked up; her lips were trembling.
"There, don't look like that!" he exclaimed, with a smile. "It is all right!"
As he spoke he drew near the table aimlessly, and as aimlessly glanced at the piles of papers with which it was strewn.
"I am making you nervous with my excitement——" he stopped suddenly, and snatched up one of the papers. It was a folded brief, and bore upon its surface the name of Jasper Adelstone, written in large letters.
He stared at it for a moment as if it had bitten him, then,with an inarticulate cry, he flung it down and sprang toward her.
"Stella, we have been trapped! Come! quick!"
Stella sprang to her feet, and instinctively moved to the door: but before she had taken a couple of steps the door opened, and Jasper Adelstone stood before them.
Jasper Adelstoneclosed the door behind him, and stood looking at them.
His face was very pale, his lips were tightly compressed, and there was that peculiar look of decision and resolution which Stella had often remarked.
True it struck her as ominous—a chill, cold and awesome, ran through her—but she stood and confronted him with a face that, though as pale as his own, showed no sign of fear; her eyes met his own with a haughty, questioning gaze.
"Mr. Adelstone," she said, in low, clear, indignant tones, "what does this mean?"
Before he could make any reply, Frank stepped between them, and with crimson face and flashing eyes confronted him.
"Yes! what does this mean, Mr. Adelstone?" he echoed. "Why have you brought us here—entrapped us?"
Jasper Adelstone just glanced at him, then looked at Stella—pale, beautiful and indignant.
"I fear I have offended you," he said, in a low, clear voice, his eyes fixed with concentrated watchful intentness on her face.
"Offended!" echoed Stella, with mingled surprise and anger. "There is no question of offense, Mr. Adelstone. This—this that you have done is an insult!"
And her face flushed hotly.
He shook his head gravely, and his hands clasped themselves behind his back, where they pecked at each other in his effort to remain calm and self-possessed under her anger and scorn.
"It is not an insult; it was not intended as an insult. Stella——"
"My name is Etheridge, Mr. Adelstone," Stella broke in, calmly and proudly. "Be good enough to address me by my title of courtesy and surname."
"I beg your pardon," he said, in slow tones. "Miss Etheridge, I am aware that the step I have taken—and I beg you to mark that I do not attempt to deny that it is through my order that you are here——"
"We know all that!" interrupted Frank, fiercely. "We don't wish for any verbiage from you; we only want, my cousin and I, a direct answer to our question, 'Why have you done this?' When you have answered it, we will leave you as quickly as possible. If you don't choose to answer, we will leave you without. In fact, Stella"—and he turned with a glance of contempt and angry scorn at the tall motionless figure with the pale face and compressed lips—"in fact, Stella, I don't think wemuch care to know. We had better go, I think, and leave it to someone else to demand an explanation and reparation."
Jasper did not look at him, took no notice whatever of the boyish scorn and indignation: he had borne Stella's; the boy's could not touch him after hers.
"I am ready to afford you an explanation," he said to Stella, with an emphasis on the 'you.'
Stella was silent, her eyes turned away from him, as if the very thought of him were distasteful to her.
"Go on, we are waiting!" exclaimed Frank, with all a boy's directness.
"I said that I would afford 'you,' Miss Etheridge," said Jasper. "I think it would be better if you were to hear me alone."
"What!" shouted Frank, drawing Stella's arm through his.
"Alone," repeated Jasper. "It would be better for you—for all of us," he repeated, with a significance in his voice that sank to Stella's heart.
"I won't hear of it!" exclaimed Frank. "I am here to protect her. I would not leave her alone with you a moment. You are quite capable of murdering her!"
Then, for the first time, Jasper noticed the boy's presence.
"Are you afraid that I shall do you harm?" he said, with a cold smile.
He knew Stella.
The cold sneer stung her.
"I am not afraid of those I despise," she said, hotly. "Go, Frank. You will come when I call you."
"I shall not move," he responded, earnestly. "This man—this Jasper Adelstone—has already shown himself capable of an illegal, a criminal act, for it is illegal and criminal to kidnap anyone, and he has kidnapped us. I shall not leave you. You know," and he turned his eyes reproachfully on Stella, "I am responsible for you."
Stella's face flushed, then went pale.
"I know," she said, in a low voice and she pressed his arm. "But—but—I think it is better that I should listen to him. You see"—and her voice dropped still lower and grew tremulous, so that Jasper Adelstone could not hear it—"you see that we are in his power; we are his prisoners almost; and he will not let us go till I have heard him. It will be more prudent to yield. Think, Frank, who is waiting all this time."
Frank started, and appeared suddenly convinced.
"Very well," he whispered. "Call me the moment you want me. And, mind, if he is impertinent—he can be, you know—call at once."
Then he moved to the door, but paused and looked at Jasper with all the scorn and contempt he could summon up into his boyish face.
"I am going, Mr. Adelstone; but, remember, it is only because my cousin wishes me to. You will say what you have to say, quickly, please; and say it respectfully, too."
Jasper held the door for him calmly and stolidly, and Frank passed out into the outer office. There he put on his hat and made for the door, struck by a sudden bright idea. He would drive to Bruton Street and fetch Lord Leycester. But as he touched the door old Scrivell rose from his seat and shook his head.
"Door's locked, sir," he said.
Frank turned purple.
"What do you mean?" he exclaimed. "Let me out at once; immediately."
The old man shrugged his shoulders.
"Orders, sir; orders," he said, in his dry voice, and resumed his work, deaf to all the boy's threats, entreaties, and bribes.
Jasper closed the door and crossing the room laid his hand on a chair and signed respectfully to Stella to sit down, but without a word she drew a little away and remained standing, her eyes fixed on his face, her lips tightly pressed together.
He inclined his head and stood before her, one white hand resting on the table, the other thrust into his vest.
"Miss Etheridge," he said, slowly, and with intense earnestness, "I beg you to believe that the course which I have felt bound to adopt has been productive of as much pain and grief to me as it can possibly have been to you——"
Stella just moved her hand with scornful impatience.
"Your feelings are a matter of supreme indifference to me, Mr. Adelstone," she said, icily.
"I regret that, I regret it with pain that amounts to anguish," he said, and his lips quivered. "The sentiments of—of devotion and attachment which I entertain for you, are no secret to you——"
"I cannot hear this," she said, impatiently.
"And yet I must urge them," he said, "for I have to urge them as an excuse for the liberty—the unpardonable liberty as you at present deem it—which I have taken."
"It is unpardonable!" she echoed, with suppressed passion. "There is no excuse—absolutely none."
"And yet," he said, still quietly and insistently, "if my devotion were less ardent, my attachment less sincere and immovable, I should have allowed you to go on your way to ruin and disaster."
Stella started and looked at him indignantly.
He moved his hand, slightly deprecatory of her wrath.
"I will not conceal from you that I knew of your destination, of your appointment."
"You acted the spy!" she articulated.
"I acted rather the guardian!" he said. "What kind of love, how poor and inactive that would be, which could remain quiescent while the future of its object was at stake!"
Stella put up her hand to silence him.
"I do not care—I will not listen to your fine phrases. They do not move me, Mr. Adelstone. To your devotion and—and attachment I am indifferent; I refuse to accept them. I awaityour explanations. If you have none to give, I will go," and she made a movement as if to depart.
"Wait, I implore, Iadviseyou."
Stella stopped.
"Hear me to the end," he said. "You will not permit me to allude to the passionate love which is my excuse and my warranty for what I have done. So be it. I will speak of it no more, if I can so control myself as to refrain from doing so. I will speak of yourself and—and of the man who plots your ruin."
Stella opened her lips, but refrained from speech, and merely smiled a smile of pitiless scorn.
"I speak of Lord Leycester Wyndward," said Jasper Adelstone, the name leaving his lips as if every word tortured them. "It is true, is it not, that this Lord Leycester has asked you to meet him at a place in London—at Bruton Street, his lodgings? It is true that he has told you that he was prepared to make you his wife!"
"And you will say that it is a lie, and ask me to believe you—youagainsthim!" she broke in, with a laugh that cut him like a whip.
"No," he said; "I will admit that it may be true—I think that it is possible that it may be true; and yet, you see, I have braved your wrath and, far worse, your scorn, and balked him."
"For a time," she said, almost beneath her breath—"for a time, a short time. I fear, Mr. Adelstone, that he will demand reparation, heavy reparation at your hands for such 'balking.'"
To save her life she could not have suppressed her threat.
"I do not fear Lord Leycester, or any man," he said. "Where you are concerned I fear only—yourself."
"Do you intend giving me the explanation, sir?" she demanded, impetuously.
"I have stepped in between him and his prey," he went on, still gravely, "because I thought, I hoped, that were time given you, though it were at the last moment, that you would see the danger which lay before you, and draw back."
"Thanks!" she said, scornfully—"that is your explanation. Having afforded it, be kind enough to open that door and let me depart."
"Stay!" he said, and for the first time his voice broke and showed signs of the storm that was raging within him. "Stay, Stella—I implore, I beseech of you! Think, consider for one moment to what doom your feet are carrying you! The man proposes—has the audacity to propose—a clandestine elopement, a secret marriage; he treats you as if you were not worthy to be his wife, as if you were the dirt under his feet! Do you think, dare you, blinded as you are by a momentary passion, dare you hope that any good can spring from such an union, that any happiness can follow such a shameful marriage? Dare you hope that this man's love—love!—which will not brave the temporary anger and contempt of his relations, can be strong enough to last a lifetime? Think, Stella! He is ashamed of you already;he, the heir to Wyndward, is ashamed to make you his bride before the world. He must lower and degrade you by a secret ceremony. What is his love compared with mine—with mine?" and in the fierce emotion of the moment he put his hand upon her arm and held her.
With a fierce, angry scorn, which no one who knew Stella Etheridge could have thought her capable of, she flung his hand from her and confronted him, her beautiful face looking lovely in its scorn and wrath.
"Silence!" she exclaimed, her breast heaving, her eyes darting lightning. "You—you coward! You dare to speak thus to me, a weak, defenseless girl, whom you have entrapped into listening to you! I dare you to utter them to him—him, the man you traduce and slander. You speak of love; you know not what it is! You speak of shame——" she paused, the word seemed to overcome her. "Shame," she repeated, struggling for breath and composure; "you do not know what that is. Shall I tell you? I have never felt it until now; I feel it now, because I have been weak enough to remain and listen to you! It is shameful that your hand should have touched me! It is shameful that I should have listened to your protestations of love—love! You speak of the shame which he would bring upon me! Well, then—listen for once and all!—if such shame were to befall me from his hand, I would go to meet it, yes, and welcome it, rather than take from yours all the honor which you could extend to me! You say that I am going to ruin and unhappiness! So be it; I accept your words—to silence you, learn from my own lips that I would rather bear such shame and misery with him, than happiness and honor with you. Have I—have I," she panted, "spoken plainly enough?" and she looked down at him with passionate scorn. He was white, white as death, his hands hung at his side clinched and burning; his tongue seemed to cleave to the roof of his mouth, and render speech impossible.
Her scorn lashed him; every word fell like the thong of a knout, and cut into his heart; and all the while his eyes rested on hers with anguished entreaty.
"Spare me," he cried, hoarsely, at last. "Spare me! I have tried to spare you!"
"You—spare me!" she retorted, with a short contemptuous laugh.
"Yes," he said, wetting his lips, "I have tried to spare you! I tried argument, entreaty, all to no purpose! Now—now you compel me to use force!"
She glanced at the door, though she seemed to know instinctively that he did not mean physical force.
"I would have saved you without this last step," he said, slowly, almost inaudibly. "I call upon you to remember this in the after-time. That not until you had repulsed all my efforts to turn you from your purpose—not until you had lashed me with your scorn and contempt, did I take up this last weapon. If in using it—though I use it as mercifully as I can—it turnsand wounds you, bear this in mind, that not until the last did I direct it against you!"
Stella put her hand to her lips; they were trembling with excitement.
"I will not hear another word," she said. "I care as little for your threat—this is a threat——"
"It is a threat," he said, with deadly calmness.
"As I do for your entreaties. You cannot harm me."
"No," he said; "but I can harm those you love."
She smiled, and moved to the door.
"Stay," he said. "For their sakes, remain and hear me to the end."
She paused.
"You speak of shame," he said, "and fear it as naught. You do not know what it means, and—and—I forget the fearful words that stained your lips. But there are others, those you love, for whom shame means death—worse than death."
She looked at him with a smile of contemptuous disbelief. She did not believe one word of the vague threat, not one word.
"Believe me," he said, "there hangs above the heads of those you love a shame as deadly and awful as that sword which hung above the head of Damocles. It hangs by a single thread which I, and I alone, can sever. Say but the word and I can cast aside that shame. Turn from me to him—to him—and I cut the thread and the sword falls!"
Stella laughed scornfully.
"You have mistaken your vocation," she said. "You were intended for the stage, Mr. Adelstone. I regret that I have no further time to waste upon your efforts. Permit me to go."
"Go, then," he said, "and the misery of those dear to you be upon your hands, for you will have dealt it, not I! Go! But mark me, before you have reached the man who has ensnared you that shame will have fallen; a shame so bitter that it will yawn like a gulf between you and him; a gulf which no time can ever bridge over."
"It—it is a lie!" she breathed, her eyes fixed upon his white face, but she paused and did not go.
He inclined his head.
"No," he said, "it is true, an awful, shameful truth. You will wait and listen?"
She looked at him for a moment in silence.
"I will wait five minutes—just five minutes," she said, and she pointed to the clock. "And I warn you—it is I who warn you now—that by no word will I attempt to screen you from the punishment which will meet this lie."