Anne conceived more respect for Lord Hunsdon as the days went on, for
there was no doubt that his stratagem, carefully planned and carried
out, was succeeding. Whether Warner suspected his object or not no one
could guess, but that he was flattered and encouraged there could be
no question. Invitations to Bath House descended in showers. He
breakfasted, lunched, dined there, drove with the ladies in the
afternoon, and finally summoned up courage to be host at a picnic in
the hills. He was still shy and quiet, but he no longer looked abject
and listless. His shoulders were less bowed, even his skin grew more
normal of hue, the flesh beneath it firmer. It might be a fool's
paradise; these spoilt people of the world might have forgotten
him before their return next winter, but the mere fact that they
overlooked his flagrant insults to society and once more permitted him
to become an active member of his own class was enough to soothe ugly
memories and make the blood run more freely in his veins.
Anne treated him with a uniform courtesy and flattering animation, but
made no opportunities for private conversation, and he on his side
made no overt attempt at deliberate approach. On the contrary,
although she often caught him regarding her steadily, sometimes with a
sadness that made her turn aside with a paling colour, he seemed
rather to avoid her than otherwise. Not so Lord Hunsdon. He was ever
at her side in spite of her manifest indifference, and daily confided
to her his delight in Warner's response, and his hopes. He joined her
in no more of her walks, but he rarely failed to attend her in the
orchard in the afternoon--where the younger guests never tired of
watching the little black boys scramble up the tall thin smooth
cocoanut trees, and, grinning and singing amidst the thick mass of
leaves at the top, shake down the green delicious fruit--or in the
saloon after dinner. Frequently he invited a small party to take
grenadilla ices on the terrace of the gay little restaurant in
Charlestown, where half the creole world of Nevis was to be met, and
upon one occasion he took several of the more venturesome out to
spear turtles, that Anne alone might be gratified. So far he had made
no declaration, and often stared at her with an apprehension and a
diffidence that seemed a travesty on the fettered and tortured soul
that looked from Warner's eyes; but his purpose showed no wavering,
despite the efforts of Lady Hunsdon and of Anne herself to bring him
to the feet of Lady Mary. That his mother was uneasy was manifest. She
was too worldly to pin her faith to the apparent indifference of any
portionless young woman to a wealthy peer of the realm, and the more
she saw of Anne Percy the less she favoured her as a daughter-in-law.
Lady Constance, who understood her perfectly, laughed outright one
evening as she intercepted a scowl directed at Hunsdon and Miss Percy,
who sat apart in one of the withdrawing-rooms.
"She won't have him. Do not worry."
"I am not at all sure. You forget that Hunsdon would be a great match
for any girl."
"She does not care two straws about making a great match."
"Fiddlesticks."
"She is made on the grand scale. Hunsdon is all very well, but he
makes no appeal to the imagination. I am almost glad Warner has made
such a wreck of himself. A handsome, dashing young poet, with the
world at his feet, might be fatal to her. Warner never was dashing, to
be sure, but he certainly was handsome ten years ago, and fame is a
dazzling halo."
"He improves every day, but he seems to fancy Miss Percy as little as
any of the others."
"Poor devil! I suppose he recalls the time when so many girls tried to
marry him. I cannot see much improvement myself, although he does not
look quite so much like a lost soul roaming about in search of a
respectable tenement. But his physical attraction is all gone. Not one
of the girls is in love with him, not one of the men jealous."
"Oh, certainly no woman could fall in love with him, any more than any
parent would accept him. And as he is quite safe I wish he would
command more of Miss Percy's attention, and leave her with the less to
bestow on Hunsdon."
"He is too much in love with her."
"What?"
"I seem to be the only person in Bath House with eyes in my head. He
is desperately, miserably, in love with her, and too conscious of his
own ruin, too respectful of her, to dream of addressing her. He would
stay away altogether, I fancy, did he not find a doubtful pleasure in
looking at her."
"I am distressed if I have added to his trouble," said Lady Hunsdon,
who prided herself upon always experiencing the correct sentiments.
"I hoped he came so often to us because we had restored his lost
self-respect, and he was grateful to be among his equals once more."
"Oh, that, doubtless. But the rose leaves crumple more with every
visit. I only hope the reaction will not awaken the echoes of Nevis."
"What a raven! Let us hope for the best and continue to do our duty.
If he really is in love with Anne Percy it may prove his redemption."
"Much more likely his damnation. It will be the last drop in a cup of
bitterness already too full."
"You grow sentimental."
"Always was. But that never prevented me from seeing things as they
are. The result is that I am generally called cynical. But don't worry
about Hunsdon. He needs a refusal, and this is his only opportunity."