has done me the honour to accept me as her husband. I learn from her that during the term of your residence in the house, you contrived to extract from her a promise to which she attaches certain scruples. She pleases to consider herself bound to you till you release her. My object is to demand that you will do so immediately.”
Evan did not reply.
“Should you refuse to make this reparation for the harm you have done to her and to her family,” Laxley pursued, “I must let you know that there are means of compelling you to it, and that those means will be employed.”
Harry, fuming at these postured sentences, burst out: “What do you talk to the fellow in that way for? A fellow who makes a fool of my cousin, and then wants to get us to buy off my sister! What’s he spying after here? The place is ours till we troop. I tell you there’s only one way of dealing with him, and if you don’t do it, I will.”
Laxley pulled his reins with a jerk that brought him to the rear.
“Miss Jocelyn has commissioned you to make this demand on me in her name?” said Evan.
“I make it in my own right,” returned Laxley. “I demand a prompt reply.”
“My lord, you shall have it. Miss Jocelyn is not bound to me by any engagement. Should she entertain scruples which I may have it in my power to obliterate, I shall not hesitate to do so—but only to her. What has passed between us I hold sacred.”
“Hark at that!” shouted Harry. “The damned tradesman means money! You ass, Ferdinand! What did we go to Lymport for? Not to bandy words. Here! I’ve got my own quarrel with you, Harrington. You’ve been setting that girl’s father on me. Can you deny that?”
It was enough for Harry that Evan did not deny it. The calm disdain which he read on Evan’s face acted on his fury, and digging his heels into his horse’s flanks he rushed full at him and dealt him a sharp flock with his whip. Evan’s beast reared.
“Accept my conditions, sir, or afford me satisfaction,” cried Laxley.
“You do me great honour, my lord, but I have told you I cannot,” said Evan, curbing his horse.
At that moment Rose came among them. Evan raised his hat, as did Laxley. Harry, a little behind the others, performed a laborious mock salute, and then ordered her back to the house. A quick altercation ensued; the end being that Harry managed to give his sister the context of the previous conversation.
“Now go back, Rose,” said Laxley. “I have particular business with Mr. Harrington.”
“I came to see him,” said Rose, in a clear voice.
Laxley reddened angrily.
“Then tell him at once you want to be rid of him,” her brother called to her.
Rose looked at Evan. Could he not see that she had no word in her soul for him of that kind? Yes: but love is not always to be touched to tenderness even at the sight of love.
“Rose,” he said. “I hear from Lord Laxley, that you fancy yourself not at liberty; and that you require me to disengage you.”
He paused. Did he expect her to say there that she wished nothing of the sort? Her stedfast eyes spoke as much: but misery is wanton, and will pull all down to it. Even Harry was checked by his tone, and Laxley sat silent. The fact that something more than a tailor was speaking seemed to impress them.
“Since I have to say it, Rose, I hold you in no way bound to me. The presumption is forced upon me. May you have all the happiness I pray God to give you! Gentlemen, good night!”
He bowed, and was gone. How keenly she could have retorted on that false prayer for her happiness! Her limbs were nerveless, her tongue speechless. He had thrown her off—there was no barrier now between herself and Ferdinand. Why did Ferdinand speak to her with that air of gentle authority, bidding her return to the house? She was incapable of seeing, what the young lord acutely felt, that he had stooped very much in helping to bring about such a scene. She had no idea of having trifled with him and her own heart, when she talked feebly of her bondage to another, as one who would be warmer to him were she free. Swiftly she compared the two that loved her, and shivered as if she had been tossed to the embrace of a block of ice.
“You are cold, Rose,” said Laxley, bending to lay his hand on her shoulder.
“Pray, never touch me,” she answered, and walked on hastily to the house.
Entering it, she remembered that Evan had dwelt there. A sense of desolation came over her. She turned to Ferdinand remorsefully, saying; “Dear Ferdinand!” and allowed herself both to be touched and taken close to him. When she reached her bed-room, she had time to reflect that he had kissed her on the lips, and then she fell down and shed such tears as had never been drawn from her before.
Next day she rose with an undivided mind. Belonging henceforth to Ferdinand, it was necessary that she should invest him immediately with transcendant qualities. His absence of character rendered this easy. What she had done for Evan, she did for him. But now, as if the Fates had been lying in watch to entrap her and chain her, that they might have her at their mercy, her dreams of Evan’s high nature—hitherto dreams only—were to be realised. With the purposeless waywardness of her sex, Polly Wheedle while dressing her young mistress and though quite aware that the parting had been spoken, must needs relate her sister’s story and Evan’s share in it. Rose praised him like one for ever aloof from him. Nay, she could secretly congratulate herself on not being deceived. Upon that came a letter from Caroline:
“Do not misjudge my brother. He knew Juliana’s love for him, and rejected it. You will soon have proofs of his disinterestedness. Then do not forget that he works to support us all. I write this with no hope save to make you just to him. That is the utmost he will ever anticipate.’
