Lord Avon, who had only a week ago returned from Bath, came to pay his respects. He had much to tell dear Lady Lavinia. How Cholmondely and Falmouth had dared to fight a duel in Crescent Fields, and had been arrested. How furious the Beau was, but how his age was beginning to tell on him, and how it was whispered that his power was waning. All of which at any ordinary time would have interested my lady quite prodigiously, but now bored and even annoyed her.
On went the play. Scrub and Boniface kept the house in a roar; all but Richard and his wife were enthralled. The incomparable Kitty failed to hold Lavinia’s attention. Would Lovelace manage to speak to her in the last interval? A solicitous enquiry from Mrs. Fleming roused her, and she had perforce to smile—to own to a slight headache, and to evince some interest in the play. One more interval: would he come? She became aware of a hand laid on her shoulder. Richard’s voice, gravely courteous, sounded in her ears.
“You are heated, my dear. Will you walk outside a little?”
She felt a mad desire to cling to his hand, and suppressed it forcibly. She rose, hesitating. Mrs. Fleming decided the point.
“The very thing. How considerate of you, Mr. Carstares! I shall like to walk amongst all the people, to be sure! Here is Charles offering to escort us, too! What say you, Lavvy?”
“I—oh, I shall be pleased to do what suits you best, cousin,” she answered.
“Then let us go, my love. Charles has an arm for each, so we may leave our husbands to chat.”
They went out into the broad passage and walked towards the foyer. There Lord March espied Lavinia, who was always a favourite with him, and came forward, offering his arm. Lavinia took it, thankful to escape from Mr. Holt’s vapid conversation. She let March conduct her to where his mother was sitting, with Mr. Selwyn at her elbow. Someone fetched her a glass of ratafie, and Montagu came to talk to her.
Stepping out of his box, Richard fell into the arms of his Grace of Andover.
“Ah! Dick!”
Richard eyed him coldly.
“You wanted me?”
Tracy saw Mr. Fleming approaching.
“Only to ask if I may return with you to Grosvenor Square. I have something important to say.”
“Certainly,” bowed Richard, and turned aside.
Lovelace, who had succeeded in escaping from the Belmanoir claws, hurried in search of Lavinia. Not finding her in her box, he gathered she must be in the foyer and made his way towards it. As soon as she saw him coming she set down her glass and rose to her feet.
“Oh, Captain Lovelace! Have you come to fetch me back to my seat? I have scarce set eyes on you this evening. No, Markham, you may not come! No, nor you, my lord! Madam—” She curtsied low to the old Duchess and walked away on Harold’s arm.
When they were once in the deserted passage behind the boxes, he turned eagerly towards her.
“Well, my dearest? Well?”
Lady Lavinia’s mouth drooped miserably.
“Yes,” she said, “I shall have to come with you.”
The tone was damping, to say the least of it, but he did not seem to notice it.
“Lavinia! You mean it?”
“Yes,” she assented, still more dejectedly.
“My beautiful love! You will really come? When? At once?”
“At—Oh, no, no!”
“Darling, the sooner the better. I understand ’tis a great step to expect you to take in a hurry, but I assure you ’tis wisest. Can you come tomorrow?”
Her big eyes dilated.
“No! No! I—oh, I cannot leave Dicky so soon!” She ended with a sob.
“But, Lavinia, my dearest! You surely do not want to stay with him?” he cried.
“Yes I do!” she answered. “I—I don’t want ever to leave him!”
This blighting speech left him gasping.
“You—but—heavens! what are you saying? You love me!”
“No, I don’t!” she contradicted. “I always s-said I d-didn’t. I love my husband!”
“You are distraught!” he exclaimed. “If you love him, why do you consent to elope with me?”
She looked at him reproachfully.
“There is no one else,” she said mournfully.
“Good Lord! What—”
“I have to elope with someone—because—Dick—d-doesn’t love me any more—you see. I will come with you, and I will try to be good.”
He kissed her hand quickly.
“Sweetheart! … I still think you are not yourself. You will think differently tomorrow—you do not really love Carstares.”
She shut her mouth obstinately, tilting her regal little head.
He watched her anxiously.
“If you really do love him, ’tis ridiculous to elope with me,” he said.
Her fingers tightened on his wrist.
“But I must! You don’t understand, Harry! You must take me! Don’t you want me?”
“Of course I do, but not if you are longing to be somewhere else all the time. The whole thing seems preposterous!”
“ ’Tis all dreadful!—dreadful! I have never been so unhappy in my life! I—oh, I wish I had not been so heedless and selfish!”
Lovelace pondered for a moment, as they stood outside her box; then, seeing that people were returning to their seats, he opened the door and took her in.
“Listen, dear! This is the maddest scheme ever I heard; but if you are determined, you shall carry it through. Come to my lodgings tomorrow evening! Bring as little baggage as possible; I will have all ready, and we will post at once to Dover. Then in time I hope you will forget Richard and come to care for me a little.”
“You are very, very good, Harry! Yes, I will do just as you say and, oh, I am sorry to put you out like this! I am nought but a plague to everyone, and I wish I were dead! You don’t really love me, and I shall be a burden!”
“I do indeed love you!” he assured her, but within himself he could not help wishing that he had not fallen quite so passionately in love with her. “I’ll leave you now, sweet, for your husband will be
