“What carriage?”
“Coming home from hunting.”
“Was that at Mistletoe or Rufford?”
“At Mistletoe, mamma,” replied Arabella, stamping her foot.
“But you must let me know how it was that you became engaged to him at Rufford.”
“Mamma, you mean to drive me mad,” exclaimed Arabella as she bounced out of the room.
There was very much more of this, till at last Arabella found herself compelled to invent facts. Lord Rufford, she said, had assured her of his everlasting affection in the little room at Rufford, and had absolutely asked her to be his wife coming home in the carriage with her to Stamford. She told herself that though this was not strictly true, it was as good as true—as that which was actually done and said by Lord Rufford on those occasions could have had no other meaning. But before her mother had completed her investigation, Arabella had become so sick of the matter that she shut herself up in her room and declared that nothing on earth should induce her to open her mouth on the subject again.
When Lord Rufford received the letter he was aghast with new disgust. He had begun to flatter himself that his interview with Lord Augustus would be the end of the affair. Looking at it by degrees with coolness he had allowed himself to think that nothing very terrible could be done to him. Some few people, particularly interested in the Mistletoe family, might give him a cold shoulder, or perhaps cut him directly; but such people would not belong to his own peculiar circle, and the annoyance would not be great. But if all the family, one after another, were to demand interviews with him up in London, he did not see when the end of it would be. There would be the Duke himself, and the Duchess, and Mistletoe. And the affair would in this way become gossip for the whole town. He was almost minded to write to the Duke saying that such an interview could do no good; but at last he thought it best to submit the matter to his mentor, Sir George Penwether. Sir George was clearly of opinion that it was Lord Rufford’s duty to see Lady Augustus. “Yes, you must have interviews with all of them, if they ask it,” said Sir George. “You must show that you are not afraid to hear what her friends have got to say. When a man gets wrong he can’t put himself right without some little annoyance.”
“Since the world began,” said Lord Rufford, “I don’t think that there was ever a man born so well adapted for preaching sermons as you are.” Nevertheless he did as he was bid, and consented to meet Lady Augustus in Piccadilly on the day named by her. On that very day the hounds met at Impington and Lord Rufford began to feel his punishment. He assented to the proposal made and went up to London, leaving the members of the U.R.U. to have the run of the season from the Impington coverts.
When Lady Augustus was sitting in the back room of the mansion waiting for Lord Rufford she was very much puzzled to think what she would say to him when he came. With all her investigation she had received no clear idea of the circumstances as they occurred. That her daughter had told her a fib in saying that she was engaged when she went to Mistletoe, she was all but certain. That something had occurred in the carriage which might be taken for an offer she thought possible. She therefore determined to harp upon the carriage as much as possible and to say as little as might be as to the doings at Rufford. Then as she was trying to arrange her countenance and her dress and her voice, so that they might tell on his feelings, Lord Rufford was announced. “Lady Augustus,” said he at once, beginning the lesson which he had taught himself, “I hope I see you quite well. I have come here because you have asked me, but I really don’t know that I have anything to say.”
“Lord Rufford, you must hear me.”
“Oh yes; I will hear you certainly, only this kind of thing is so painful to all parties, and I don’t see the use of it.”
“Are you aware that you have plunged me and my daughter into a state of misery too deep to be fathomed?”
“I should be sorry to think that.”
“How can it be otherwise? When you assure a girl in her position in life that you love her—a lady whose rank is quite as high as your own—”
“Quite so—quite so.”
“And when in return for that assurance you have received vows of love from her—what is she to think, and what are her friends to think?” Lord Rufford had always kept in his mind a clear remembrance of the transaction in the carriage, and was well aware that the young lady’s mother had inverted the circumstances, or, as he expressed it to himself, had put the cart before the horse. He had assured the young lady that he loved her, and he had also been assured of her love; but her assurance had come first. He felt that this made all the difference in the world; so much difference that no one cognisant in such matters would hold that his assurance, obtained after such a fashion, meant anything at all. But how was he to explain this to the lady’s mother? “You will admit that such assurances were given?” continued Lady Augustus.
“Upon my word I don’t know. There was a little foolish talk, but it meant nothing.”
“My lord!”
“What am I to say? I don’t want to give offence, and I am heartily sorry that you and your daughter should be under any misapprehension. But as I sit here there was no engagement between us;—nor, if I must speak out, Lady Augustus, could your daughter have thought that there was an
