“Frank,” said Lady Eustace, “is coming down in August to shoot my three annual grouse at Portray. He would keep one for you, my lord, if he thought you would come for it.”
“I’ll promise Lord Fawn a fair third, at any rate,” said Frank.
“I cannot visit Portray this August, I’m afraid,” said his lordship, “much as I might wish to do so. One of us must remain at the India Office—”
“Oh, that weary India Office!” exclaimed Lizzie.
“I almost think you official men are worse off than we barristers,” said Frank. “Well, Lizzie, goodbye. I dare say I shall see you again before you start.”
“Of course you will,” said Lizzie. And then the two lovers were left together. They had met once, at Lady Glencora’s ball, since the quarrel at Fawn Court, and there, as though by mutual forbearance, had not alluded to their troubles. Now he had come, especially to speak of the matter that concerned them both so deeply. As long as Frank Greystock was in the room, his work was comparatively easy, but he had known beforehand that he would not find it at all easy should he be left alone with her. Lizzie began. “My lord,” she said, “considering all that has passed between us, you have been a truant.”
“Yes;—I admit it—but—”
“With me, my lord, a fault admitted is a fault forgiven.” Then she took her old seat on the sofa, and he placed himself on the chair which Frank Greystock had occupied. He had not intended to own a fault, and certainly not to accept forgiveness; but she had been too quick for him; and now he could not find words by which to express himself. “In truth,” she continued, “I would always rather remember one kindness than a dozen omissions on the part of a friend.”
“Lady Eustace, I have not willingly omitted anything.”
“So be it. I will not give you the slightest excuse for saying that you have heard a reproach from me. You have come at last, and you are welcome. Is that enough for you?”
He had much to say to her about the diamonds, and, when he was entering the room, he had not a word to say to her about anything else. Since that, another subject had sprung up before him. Whether he was, or was not, to regard himself as being at this moment engaged to marry Lady Eustace, was a matter to him of much doubt;—but of this he was sure, that if she were engaged to him as his wife, she ought not to be entertaining her cousin Frank Greystock down at Portray Castle, unless she had some old lady, not only respectable in life, but high in rank also, to see that everything was right. It was almost an insult to him that such a visit should have been arranged without his sanction or cognizance. Of course, if he were bound by no engagement—and he had been persuaded by his mother and sister to wish that he were not bound—then the matter would be no affair of his. If, however, the diamonds were abandoned, then the engagement was to be continued;—and in that case it was out of the question that his elected bride should entertain another young man—even though she was a widow and the young man was her cousin. Of course, he should have spoken of the diamonds first; but the other matter had obtruded itself upon him, and he was puzzled. “Is Mr. Greystock to accompany you into Scotland?” he asked.
“Oh dear no. I go on the thirtieth of this month. I hardly know when he means to be there.”
“He follows you to Portray?”
“Yes;—he follows me, of course. ‘The king himself has followed her, When she has gone before.’ ” Lord Fawn did not remember the quotation, and was more puzzled than ever. “Frank will follow me, just as the other shooting men will follow me.”
“He goes direct to Portray Castle?”
“Neither directly nor indirectly. Just at present, Lord Fawn, I am in no mood to entertain guests—not even one that I love so well as my cousin Frank. The Portray mountains are somewhat extensive, and at the back of them there is a little shooting-lodge.”
“Oh, indeed,” said Lord Fawn, feeling that he had better dash at once at the diamonds.
“If you, my lord, could manage to join us for a day, my cousin and his friend would, I am sure, come over to the castle, so that you should not suffer from being left alone with me and Miss Macnulty.”
“At present it is impossible,” said Lord Fawn;—and then he paused. “Lady Eustace, the position in which you and I stand to each other is one not altogether free from trouble.”
“You cannot say that it is of my making,” she said, with a smile. “You once asked—what men think a favour from me; and I granted it—perhaps too easily.”
“I know how greatly I am indebted to your goodness, Lady Eustace—” And then again he paused.
“Lord Fawn!”
“I trust you will believe that nothing can be further from me than that you should be harassed by any conduct of mine.”
“I am harassed, my lord.”
“And so am I. I have learned that you are in possession of certain jewels which I cannot allow to be held by my wife.”
“I am not your
