“I cannot, for something stronger than my own will controls me.”
“What is that?” And Jean’s dark eyes were fixed upon him, full of innocent wonder.
His fell, and he said hastily, “I dare not tell you yet.”
“Pardon! I should not have asked. Do not consult me in this matter; I am not the person to advise you. I can only say that it seems to me as if any man with an empty heart would be glad to have so beautiful a woman as your cousin.”
“My heart is not empty,” began Coventry, drawing a step nearer, and speaking in a passionate voice. “Jean, I must speak; hear me. I cannot love my cousin, because I love you.”
“Stop!” And Jean sprang up with a commanding gesture. “I will not hear you while any promise binds you to another. Remember your mother’s wishes, Lucia’s hopes, Edward’s last words, your own pride, my humble lot. You forget yourself, Mr. Coventry. Think well before you speak, weigh the cost of this act, and recollect who I am before you insult me by any transient passion, any false vows.”
“I have thought, I do weigh the cost, and I swear that I desire to woo you as humbly, honestly as I would any lady in the land. You speak of my pride. Do I stoop in loving my equal in rank? You speak of your lowly lot, but poverty is no disgrace, and the courage with which you bear it makes it beautiful. I should have broken with Lucia before I spoke, but I could not control myself. My mother loves you, and will be happy in my happiness. Edward must forgive me, for I have tried to do my best, but love is irresistible. Tell me, Jean, is there any hope for me?”
He had seized her hand and was speaking impetuously, with ardent face and tender tone, but no answer came, for as Jean turned her eloquent countenance toward him, full of maiden shame and timid love, Dean’s prim figure appeared at the door, and her harsh voice broke the momentary silence, saying, sternly, “Miss Beaufort is waiting for you, sir.”
“Go, go at once, and be kind, for my sake, Gerald,” whispered Jean, for he stood as if deaf and blind to everything but her voice, her face.
As she drew his head down to whisper, her cheek touched his, and regardless of Dean, he kissed it, passionately, whispering back, “My little Jean! For your sake I can be anything.”
“Miss Beaufort is waiting. Shall I say you will come, sir?” demanded Dean, pale and grim with indignation.
“Yes, yes, I’ll come. Wait for me in the garden, Jean.” And Coventry hurried away, in no mood for the interview but anxious to have it over.
As the door closed behind him, Dean walked up to Miss Muir, trembling with anger, and laying a heavy hand on her arm, she said below her breath, “I’ve been expecting this, you artful creature. I saw your game and did my best to spoil it, but you are too quick for me. You think you’ve got him. There you are mistaken; for as sure as my name is Hester Dean, I’ll prevent it, or Sir John shall.”
“Take your hand away and treat me with proper respect, or you will be dismissed from this house. Do you know who I am?” And Jean drew herself up with a haughty air, which impressed the woman more deeply than her words. “I am the daughter of Lady Howard and, if I choose it, can be the wife of Mr. Coventry.”
Dean drew back amazed, yet not convinced. Being a well-trained servant, as well as a prudent woman, she feared to overstep the bounds of respect, to go too far, and get her mistress as well as herself into trouble. So, though she still doubted Jean, and hated her more than ever, she controlled herself. Dropping a curtsy, she assumed her usual air of deference, and said, meekly, “I beg pardon, miss. If I’d known, I should have conducted myself differently, of course, but ordinary governesses make so much mischief in a house, one can’t help mistrusting them. I don’t wish to meddle or be overbold, but being fond of my dear young lady, I naturally take her part, and must say that Mr. Coventry has not acted like a gentleman.”
“Think what you please, Dean, but I advise you to say as little as possible if you wish to remain. I have not accepted Mr. Coventry yet, and if he chooses to set aside the engagement his family made for him, I think he has a right to do so. Miss Beaufort would hardly care to marry him against his will, because he pities her for her unhappy love,” and with a tranquil smile, Miss Muir walked away.
VII
The Last Chance
She will tell Sir John, will she? Then I must be before her, and hasten events. It will be as well to have all sure before there can be any danger. My poor Dean, you are no match for me, but you may prove annoying, nevertheless.
These thoughts passed through Miss Muir’s mind as she went down the hall, pausing an instant at the library door, for the murmur of voices was heard. She caught no word, and had only time for an instant’s pause as Dean’s heavy step followed her. Turning, Jean drew a chair before the door, and, beckoning to the woman, she said, smiling still, “Sit here and play watchdog. I am going to Miss Bella, so you can nod if you will.”
“Thank you, miss. I will wait for my young lady. She may need me when this hard time is over.” And Dean seated herself with a resolute face.
Jean laughed and went on; but her eyes gleamed with sudden malice, and she glanced over her shoulder with an expression which boded ill for the faithful old servant.
“I’ve got a letter from Ned, and here is
