AN EXCITING INTERVIEW.
Lady Lanswell looked somewhat startled when her son entered the room.
During those few months of his married life he had altered much; he
looked taller and stronger; the handsome face was covered with a golden
beard and mustache; he looked quite three years older than before his
marriage.
He was a handsome stripling when his mother kissed him and sent him,
with many injunctions as to study, to Dr. Hervey's, a handsome
stripling, with golden down on his lip, and the hue of a ripe peach on
his face; now he was a man of the world, assured, confident, easy in his
carriage and bearing.
He looked at his mother with half-defiance, half-amusement in his eyes.
The strong, handsome woman, whose brave nature had never known fear,
trembled for one moment when she remembered what she had to tell her
son.
He bent down to kiss her, and for one moment her heart relented to her
son. She steeled herself with the recollection that what she had done
was for his benefit.
"I have good news for you, Lance," she said, with her stately grace;
"very excellent news."
"I am glad to hear it, mother," replied Lord Chandos, thinking to
himself how much more this interview resembled that of a queen and a
crown prince than of mother and son.
"You have traveled quickly and would probably like some refreshment--you
would like a glass of Madeira?"
The truth was that her ladyship herself, with all her courage, felt that
she required some artificial stimulant--the courage and pride of the
proudest woman in England ebbed; she feared what she had to say.
"An honor has been bestowed on you," she said, "one which would make any
peer in England proud."
His face brightened--he was keenly susceptible to the flattery implied
in his mother's words.
"You have been asked, together with Lord Dunferline, to represent our
gracious sovereign at the marriage of the Princess Caroline at
Hempsburg. Such an invitation, I need not tell you, is equivalent to a
royal command."
"I know it, mother, and I am delighted," he said, wondering in his own
mind if he should be able to take Leone with him.
"The notice is rather short," continued the countess; "but that is owing
to some delay on the part of Lord Dunferline. I hear that you are the
envy of every man at the club. You will have to leave England for
Germany in three days; to-morrow you must be at the palace. I
congratulate you, Lance; it is very seldom that a man so young as you
receives so signal a favor."
He knew it, and was proud accordingly; yet he said to himself that Leone
must go with him; he could not live without Leone.
Lady Lanswell continued:
"Your father is delighted over it; I cannot tell you how pleased he is."
Then Lord Chandos looked wonderingly around.
"Where is my father?" he said. "I have not seen him yet."
Lady Lanswell knew that he would not see him. The earl had fled
ignominiously; he had declined to be present at the grand fracas between
his wife and his son; he had left it all in my lady's hands.
"Your father had some business that took him away this morning; he knew
that I could say for him all that he had to say."
Lord Chandos smiled, and the smile was not, perhaps, the most respectful
in the world. My lady did not observe it.
"I am quite sure," he said, "that you can interpret all my father's
ideas."
It was then, with her son's handsome face smiling down on her, that the
countess grew pale and laid her hand, with instinctive fear, on the
papers spread before her. She nerved herself for the struggle; it would
never do to give way.
"I have other news for you, Lance," she said, and he looked with clear,
bright, defiant eyes in her face.
She drew herself to her full height, as though the very attitude gave
the greatest strength; there was no bend, no yielding in her. Stern,
erect, proud, she looked full in her son's face; it was as though they
were measuring their strength one against the other.
"I have never said to you, Lance, what I thought of this wretched
mistake you call your marriage," she began; "my contempt and indignation
were too great that you should dare to give the grand old name you bear
to a dairy-maid."
Leone's beautiful Spanish face flashed before him, and he laughed at the
word dairy-maid; she was peerless as a queen.
"Dare is not the word to use to a man, mother," he retorted.
"Nor should I use it to a man," said my lady, with a satirical smile. "I
am not speaking to a man, but to a hot-headed boy; a man has
self-control, self-denial, self-restraint, you have none; a man weighs
the honor of his name or his race in his hands; a man hesitates before
he degrades a name that kings have delighted to honor, before he ruins
hopelessly the prestige of a grand old race for the sake of a
dairy-maid. You, a hot-headed, foolish boy, have done all this;
therefore, I repeat that I am not speaking to a man."
"You use strong language, mother," he said.
"I feel strongly; my contempt is strong," she said. "I know not why so
great a humiliation should have fallen on me as that my son--the son of
whom I was proud--should be the first to bring shame on his name."
"I have brought no shame on it, mother," he said, angrily.
"No shame!" said the countess, bitterly. "I can read, fancy, the short
annals of the Lanswells--'Hubert, Earl Lanswell, died while fighting
loyally for his king and his country; Ross, Earl Lanswell, was famed for
political services; Lancelot, Earl Lanswell, married a dairy-maid.' I
would rather," she cried, with flashing eyes, "that you had died in your
childhood, than lived to bring such bitter shame on a loyal race."
His face grew pale with anger, as the bitter words were hurled at him.
"Will you understand, once for all, mother, that I have _not_ married a
dairy-maid?" he cried. "My wife is a wonder of beauty; she is dainty and
lovely as a princess. Only see her, you would change your opinion at
once."
"I hope never to do that. As for seeing her, I shall never so far lose
my own self-respect as to allow such a person to speak to me."
Lord Chandos shook his head with a rueful smile.
"If you had ever seen Leone, mother, you would laugh at the idea of
calling her a person," he said.
Lady Lanswell moved her hand with a gesture of superb pride.
"Nay, do not continue the subject. If the girl was not actually a
dairy-maid, in all probability she was not far removed from it. I have
no wish to discuss the question. You have stained the hitherto stainless
name of your family by the wretched mistake you call a marriage."
"I do not _call_ it a marriage; it _is_ one," he said.
And then my lady's face grew even paler.
"It is not one. I thank Heaven that the law of the land is just and
good; that it very properly refuses to recognize the so-called marriage
of a hot-headed boy. You have ignored our letters on the subject, you
have laughed at all threats, treated with disdain all advice; now you
will find your level. The judicial decree has been pronounced; the
marriage you have talked of with such bravado is no marriage; the woman
you have insulted me by mentioning is not your wife."
She neither trembled nor faltered when he turned to her with a white,
set face.
"Pardon me; I must speak plainly; that which you have said is a lie!"
"You forget yourself, Lord Chandos," she said, with cold dignity.
"You force me to use words I do not like, mother," he cried "Why do you
irritate me--why say those things?"
"They are perfectly true; here on the table lie the papers relative to
the suit; the judicial opinion has been pronounced; our petition is
granted, and your marriage, as you choose to call it, is set aside, is
pronounced illegal, null, void!"
The fierce, white anger of his face startled her.
"It shall not be!" he cried.
"It must be," she repeated; "you cannot prevent it. You must have been
singularly devoid of penetration and knowledge not to know from the
first that it must be decided against you; that no minor can marry
without the consent of his parents. A wise law it is, too; there would
soon be an end of the aristocracy of England if every hot-headed,
foolish boy of nineteen could marry without the consent of his parents
or guardian."
If his antagonist had been a man, there would have been hot, angry
words, perhaps blows; as it was, to a lady, and that lady his mother, he
could say nothing. He sunk back with a white face and clinched hands;
his mother resolutely stifled all pity, and went on, in her clear voice:
"The law has decided for us against you; you know now the truth. If you
have any respect for that unfortunate girl, you will not see her again;
she is not your wife, she is not married to you. I need not speak more
plainly; you know what relationship she will hold to you if you do not
leave her at once."
The handsome face had in these five minutes grown quite haggard and
worn.
"My God!" he cried; "I refuse to believe it, I refuse to believe one
word of it!"
With her clear, pitiless voice, she went on telling him what would
happen.
"You have one resource," she said, "and I tell you quite honestly about
it; when you are of age you can remarry this person if you wish."
He sprung from his seat with a cry of wounded pain and love.
"Mother, is it really true?" he asked. "I married that young girl before
Heaven, and you tell me that if I persist in returning to her she loses
her fair name! If it be so, you have done a very cruel thing."
"It is so," said my lady, coldly. "I grant that it seems cruel, but
better that than tarnish the name of a whole race."
"I shall remarry Leone, mother, the day after I am twenty-one," he said.
The countess raised her eyebrows.
"The same man does not often make a simpleton of himself in the same
fashion, but if you will do it, you will. For the present, if you have
any regard for the person who is not your wife, you will let her go home
again. I will return and talk over your journey with you."
So saying, the Countess of Lanswell quitted the room, leaving her son
overwhelmed with a sense of defeat.