Rachel had become unhappy seeing that the two men were in earnest. Had not Cherry spoken she would have remained with Mr. Cornbury, thinking that to be her safer conduct; but Cherry’s voice had overpowered her, and she gave her arm to young Rowan, moving away with slow, hesitating step.
“Of course Miss Ray will do as she pleases,” said Cornbury.
“Of course she will,” said Rowan.
“I am so sorry,” said Rachel, “but I was engaged, and it seems I am really wanted.” Walter Cornbury bowed very stiffly, and there was an end of his flirtation. “That’s the sort of thing that always happens when a fellow comes among this sort of people!” It was thus he consoled himself as he went down solitary to his supper.
“That’s all right,” said Rowan; “now we’ve Cherry for our vis-à-vis, and after that we’ll go down to supper comfortably.”
“But I said I’d go with him.”
“You can’t now, for he has gone without you. What a brick Cherry is! Do you know what she said of you?”
“No; do tell me.”
“I won’t. It will make you vain.”
“Oh, dear no; but I want Cherry to like me, because I am so fond of her.”
“She says you’re by far—But I won’t tell you. I hate compliments, and that would look like one. Come, who’s forgetting the figure now? I shouldn’t wonder if young Cornbury went into the brewery and drowned himself in one of the vats.”
It was very nice—very nice indeed. This was her third dance with Luke Rowan, and she was beginning to think that the other two might perhaps come off without any marked impropriety on her part. She was a little unhappy about Mr. Cornbury—on his cousin’s account rather than on his own. Mrs. Cornbury had been so kind to her that she ought to have remained with Walter when he desired it. So she told herself;—but yet she liked being taken down to supper by Luke Rowan. She had one other cause of uneasiness. She constantly caught Mrs. Tappitt’s eye fixed upon herself, and whenever she did so Mrs. Tappitt’s eye seemed to look unkindly at her. She had also an instinctive feeling that Augusta did not regard her with favour, and that this disfavour arose from Mr. Rowan’s attentions. It was all very nice; but still she felt that there was danger around her, and sometimes she would pause a moment in her happiness, and almost tremble as she thought of things. She was dividing herself poles asunder from Mrs. Prime.
“And now we’ll go to supper,” said Rowan. “Come, Cherry; do you and Boyd go on first.” Boyd was a friend of Rowan’s. “Do you know, I’ve done such a clever trick. This is my second descent among the eatables. As I belong in a manner to the house I took down Miss Harford, and hovered about her for five minutes. Then I managed to lose myself in the crowd, and coming up here got the music up. The fellows were just going off. We’ve plenty of time now, because they’re in the kitchen eating and drinking. I contrived all that dodge that I might give you this glass of wine with my own hands.”
“Oh, Mr. Rowan, it was very wrong!”
“And that’s my reward! I don’t care about its being wrong as long as it’s pleasant.”
“What shocking morality!”
“All is fair in—Well, never mind, you’ll own it is pleasant.”
“Oh, yes; it’s very pleasant.”
“Then I’m contented, and will leave the moral of it for Mr. Cornbury. I’ll tell you something further if you’ll let me.”
“Pray don’t tell me anything that you ought not.”
“I’ve done all I could to get up this party on purpose that we might have you here.”
“Nonsense.”
“But I have. I have cared about it just because it would enable me to say one word to you;—and now I’m afraid to say it.”
She was sitting there close to him, and she couldn’t go away. She couldn’t run as she had done from the stile. She couldn’t show any feeling of offence before all those who were around her; and yet—was it not her duty to do something to stop him? “Pray don’t say such things,” she whispered.
“I tell you that I’m afraid to say it. Here; give me some wine. You’ll take some more. No? Well; shall we go? I am afraid to say it.” They were now out in the hall, standing idly there, with their backs to another door. “I wonder what answer you would make me!”
“We had better go upstairs. Indeed we had.”
“Stop a moment, Miss Ray. Why is it that you are so unwilling even to stay a moment with me?”
“I’m not unwilling. Only we had better go now.”
“Do you remember when I held your arm at the stile?”
“No; I don’t remember anything about it. You ought not to have done it. Do you know, I think you are very cruel.” As she made the accusation, she looked down upon the floor, and spoke in a low, trembling voice that almost convinced him that she was in earnest.
“Cruel!” said he. “That’s hard too.”
“Or you wouldn’t prevent me enjoying myself while I am here, by saying things which you ought to know I don’t like.”
“I have hardly thought whether you would like what I say or not; but I know this; I would give anything in the world to make myself sure that you would ever look back upon this evening as a happy one.”
“I will if you’ll come upstairs, and—”
“And what?”
“And go on without—without seeming to mind me so much.”
“Ah, but I do mind you. Rachel—no; you shall not go for a minute. Listen to me for one moment.” Then he tried to stand before her, but she was off from him, and ran upstairs by herself. What was it that he wished to say to her? She knew that she would have liked to have heard it;—nay, that she was longing to
