This would have been all very well had she not known that secret. Could it be that Miss Boncassen had been mistaken? She was forced to write again to say that her father did not think it right that Gerald should be brought away from his studies for the sake of shooting, and that the necessary fourth gun would be there in the person of one Barrington Erle. Then she added: “Lady Mabel Grex is coming, and so is Miss Boncassen.” But to this she received no reply.
Though Silverbridge had written to his sister in his usual careless style, he had considered the matter much. The three months were over. He had no idea of any hesitation on his part. He had asked her to be his wife, and he was determined to go on with his suit. Had he ever been enabled to make the same request to Mabel Grex, or had she answered him when he did half make it in a serious manner, he would have been true to her. He had not told his father, or his sister, or his friends, as Isabel had suggested. He would not do so till he should have received some more certain answer from her. But in respect to his love he was prepared to be quite as obstinate as his sister. It was a matter for his own consideration, and he would choose for himself. The three months were over, and it was now his business to present himself to the lady again.
That Lady Mabel should also be at Matching, would certainly be a misfortune. He thought it probable that she, knowing that Isabel Boncassen and he would be there together, would refuse the invitation. Surely she ought to do so. That was his opinion when he wrote to his sister. When he heard afterwards that she intended to be there, he could only suppose that she was prepared to accept the circumstances as they stood.
LII
Miss Boncassen Tells the Truth
On the 20th of the month all the guests came rattling in at Matching one after another. The Boncassens were the first, but Lady Mabel with Miss Cassewary followed them quickly. Then came the Finns, and with them Barrington Erle. Lord Silverbridge was the last. He arrived by a train which reached the station at 7 p.m., and only entered the house as his father was taking Mrs. Boncassen into the dining-room. He dressed himself in ten minutes, and joined the party as they had finished their fish. “I am awfully sorry,” he said, rushing up to his father, “but I thought that I should just hit it.”
“There is no occasion for awe,” said the Duke, “as a sufficiency of dinner is left. But how you should have hit it, as you say—seeing that the train is not due at Bridstock till 7:05, I do not know.”
“I’ve done it often, sir,” said Silverbridge, taking the seat left vacant for him next to Lady Mabel. “We’ve had a political caucus of the party—all the members who could be got together in London—at Sir Timothy’s, and I was bound to attend.”
“We’ve all heard of that,” said Phineas Finn.
“And we pretty well know all the points of Sir Timothy’s eloquence,” said Barrington Erle.
“I am not going to tell any of the secrets. I have no doubt that there were reporters present, and you will see the whole of it in the papers tomorrow.” Then Silverbridge turned to his neighbour. “Well, Lady Mab, and how are you this long time?”
“But how are you? Think what you have gone through since we were at Killancodlem!”
“Don’t talk of it.”
“I suppose it is not to be talked of.”
“Though upon the whole it has happened very luckily. I have got rid of the accursed horses, and my governor has shown what a brick he can be. I don’t think there is another man in England who would have done as he did.”
“There are not many who could.”
“There are fewer who would. When they came into my bedroom that morning and told me that the horse could not run, I thought I should have broken my heart. Seventy thousand pounds gone!”
“Seventy thousand pounds!”
“And the honour and glory of winning the race! And then the feeling that one had been so awfully swindled! Of course I had to look as though I did not care a straw about it, and to go and see the race, with a jaunty air and a cigar in my mouth. That is what I call hard work.”
“But you did it!”
“I tried. I wish I could explain to you my state of mind that day. In the first place the money had to be got. Though it was to go into the hands of swindlers, still it had to be paid. I don’t know how your father and Percival get on together;—but I felt very like the prodigal son.”
“It is very different with papa.”
“I suppose so. I felt very like hanging myself when I was alone that evening. And now everything is right again.”
“I am glad that everything is right,” she said, with a strong emphasis on the “everything.”
“I have done with racing, at any rate. The feeling of being in the power of a lot of low blackguards is so terrible! I did love the poor brute so dearly. And now what have you been doing?”
“Just nothing;—and have seen nobody. I went back to Grex after leaving Killancodlem, and shut myself up in my misery.”
“Why misery?”
“Why misery! What a question for you to ask! Though I love Grex, I am not altogether fond of living alone;
