THE COUNSEL OF EXPERIENCE
There is no knowing how long Sir Gilbert Clare might have kept on
expecting the arrival of his daughter-in-law had it not been for a
visit which Mrs. Tew paid him in the course of the day following
Luigi’s departure from the Chase.
Late in the afternoon of the previous day Mrs. Clare’s maid had arrived
at Maylings in a cab, bringing with her a note from her mistress, in
which the canon’s widow was informed that although the writer had
returned from Italy it was not her present intention to again take up
her abode in the house which Sir Gilbert Clare had so generously placed
at her disposal. Would Mrs. Tew, therefore, be at the trouble to hand
over to her maid whatever personal belongings she had left behind when
she went abroad—a request with which that lady had at once complied. In
answer to her questions the maid could tell her nothing, except that
the fly in which she and her mistress were being conveyed from the
railway station had been met and stopped by Mr. Lewis Clare; that Mrs.
Clare had thereupon alighted and had accompanied him into the _Crown
and Cushion_ hotel (at a window of which she, Lucille, had caught a
glimpse of Captain Verinder), and that she was still there, awaiting
Lucille’s return from Maylings.
From all this it was clear to Sir Gilbert that he need no longer expect
the coming of his daughter-in-law. She had been intercepted by Rispani
and Verinder, had been told of what had come to light during her
absence, and, like her nephew, had preferred an ignominious flight to
facing the man she had so bitterly wronged. Evidently she had no plea
to urge in extenuation of what she had done. There was nothing for it
but to accept her guilt as proved, and to try to forget that any such
person had ever intruded her presence upon him.
As we have seen, Lady Pell had long ago penetrated Everard Lisle’s love
secret, and of late certain signs which, to any eyes less experienced
than hers, would have passed unnoted, seemed to indicate that the time
had come when he need no longer delay his confession, but might with
some measure of confidence ask for that which she felt nearly sure
would not be denied him. Many were the opportunities she contrived for
throwing the young people together, but day after day went by and the
all-important question still remained unasked. At length she began to
lose patience with Lisle. “Who would have dreamt that so much timidity
lay at the back of that confident bearing and resolute face? Oh, to be
a man and afraid of a girl’s No! Your laggard courage evidently needs
whipping up, my good sir, and mine shall be the hand to do it!”
On the Saturday she said to Sir Gilbert: “I have several times promised
myself a visit to the ruins of Dunarvon Castle, but something has
always intervened. Now, however, I will put it off no longer, or the
last of the fine weather will be gone. You placed the wagonette at my
disposal whenever I might choose to avail myself of it, so I shall take
Miss Thursby and Mrs. Tew with me, and, as we can’t very well dispense
with the services of a gentleman on such an occasion, I want you to
spare me Mr. Lisle for the whole of Monday.”
“Certainly, Louisa. Utilise his services in whatever way may seem best
to you.”
“I am quite aware that it is not a bit of use asking you to join our
little party.”
“Not the slightest use, Louisa. As you are aware, I never go anywhere.”
“I can’t help saying, Gilbert, that it would be better for you in many
ways if you did go somewhere. A man in your position, and with your
duties, has no business to make a recluse of himself.”
“I don’t dispute your dictum, only, as it happens, we are not all made
after the same pattern. Several years ago the world had become such a
tiresome place to me that henceforward I determined to see as little of
it as possible. It may have been a weak resolve to come to, but, such
as it was, I have kept it, and I am afraid that now I am far too old to
change.”
Everard Lisle could almost have gone down on his knees to Lady Pell
when told of the good fortune in store for him. He had already been to
Dunarvon and knew of the lovely woodland walks by which the ruins were
surrounded, and that he and Ethel should be able to spend a whole
autumn afternoon among them seemed almost too much happiness to be
possible. That Lady Pell would afford them ample opportunities for
wandering away by their two selves he did not doubt. What if he were to
seize the occasion to break the rule of silence he had hitherto imposed
on himself, and try for the second time to win where he had failed once
already? Well, he would be guided by circumstances. Should a propitious
moment offer itself, he would not let it slip, but if not, then would
he wait a little longer.
Sir Gilbert in person saw them off. This morning, or so it seemed to
her ladyship, he looked more cheerful and in better spirits than she
had seen him in since the affair of the strong-room, now a week ago.
“He will get over the worst of it in time, as we do with all our
troubles,” she told herself: “only, he will carry the scar of it to his
dying day.”
A drive of a dozen miles brought our little party to their destination,
whereupon Lady Pell issued her instructions. The first thing to do was
to explore the ruins under the conduct of the authorised guide.
After that would come luncheon in a room in the custodian’s cottage,
which was frequently utilised for that purpose. They had brought their
own hamper of good things with them, and their own man to wait upon
them. After which it would be time enough to decide how the rest of the
day should be spent.
At the end of an hour, having seen all there was to be seen, Lady Pell
paid and dismissed the guide; then, in an aside to Mrs. Tew, she said:
“I want you to engage Miss Thursby for a few minutes while I have a
little private talk with Mr. Lisle.”
The canon’s widow nodded, and presently the young people found
themselves drawn apart, to all appearance in a quite fortuitous way.
“If it won’t be troubling you too much, Mr. Lisle,” said Lady Pell, “I
think I should like to take another peep at that old dungeon about
which the guide told us that gruesome legend. Such places have a
peculiar but quite absurd fascination for me.”
Having taken a second peep into the dungeon, her ladyship led the way
up the winding stairs which brought them out on the leads of the keep.
“Now that we have got rid of that tiresome guide, one can enjoy the
view and be left to find out its most interesting features for
oneself.”
Lisle did not answer; he was wondering what had become of Ethel and why
they couldn’t all four be enjoying the view from the keep.
“If I had known that Dunarvon was half as picturesque as it is,” said
Lady Pell presently, “I would certainly have got Miss Thursby to bring
her drawing materials with her. There are charming sketches to be made
from half-a-dozen different points of view.”
“Would it not be possible to come to Dunarvon on some future day and
rectify the omission?” queried Everard with the most innocent air
imaginable.
“Come again another day? Impossible!” cried her ladyship. “My time at
the Chase is nearly up. A few more days, and Miss Thursby and I will be
winging our flight elsewhere. And high time too, in my opinion.” She
was looking full at Lisle, and he felt himself colouring under her
regard.
“Why do you say—‘and high time too,’ Lady Pell? I—I fail to understand
you.” It was many a year since his cheeks had burnt as hotly as they
did at that moment.
“I should have thought my words were plain enough to be understood by
anybody. However, since it seems that nothing else will do, I will deal
with you still more plainly.” Laying a hand for a moment on his sleeve,
she said: “Everard Lisle, you are in love with Ethel Thursby—and small
blame to you either! Ah! you needn’t start. I’ve known it all along. Of
course you thought, as most of your sex do in such cases, that nobody
could see what was the matter with you; whereas to me—not that I set
myself up as being cleverer than other people—it was as plain as a
pikestaff. Very well. Perceiving what ailed you, I went out of my way
to make opportunities for you to be together, and indeed, in a quiet
way, did all I could to help you. And with what result, pray? Simply
none at all. Week after week has gone by, and here you are, to all
seeming, not a bit nearer what you are dying to possess than you were
when I arrived at Withington Chase. I am disappointed in you, Everard
Lisle.”
Her ladyship’s somewhat lengthy diatribe had afforded Everard time to
recover his self-possession. “Lady Pell,” he returned with some
emotion, “that in you I have all along had a friend I have felt assured
in my own mind, but I must confess I did not think that the feelings
with which I regard Miss Thursby had betrayed themselves so plainly on
the surface as they seem to have done. However, you have surprised my
secret, and I am confident it could not be in better keeping. You deem
me dilatory, in that I have so long delayed putting my fortune to the
touch; but there is one circumstance I may be permitted to urge in
extenuation of which I feel assured you have no knowledge. Six months
ago I proposed to Miss Thursby and was rejected. Can you wonder, then,
if I hesitate and seem to shilly-shally before venturing to run the
same risk again?”
“That is something which I never so much as suspected,” replied her
ladyship. “Yes, that certainly puts a somewhat different complexion on
the affair. But I would not let myself be too much discouraged by it if
I were you, Mr. Lisle.”
“I don’t think I let it discourage me overmuch,” said Everard with a
smile. “Only, as I said before, it lies at the back of my apparent
hesitation.”
“Then take the advice of an old woman who has seen something of the
world, and hesitate no longer.”
“Ah! then you think I have a chance of success?” exclaimed Lisle with a
sudden glow which seemed to irradiate him from head to foot. “You have
seen something—you know something?”
“Not quite so fast, my young friend, if you please,” said her ladyship
in her dryest accents. “I know nothing—absolutely nothing. No whisper
in connection with yourself and her has ever passed Miss Thursby’s lips
to me. As for what I have seen, or may have fancied I have seen, that
is a matter of no moment and concerns no one but myself. Still, I say
to you as I said before: were I in your place I should hesitate no
longer. Are you prepared to seize the first occasion that offers
itself?”
“After what has passed between us, I should indeed be a coward not to
do so.”
“Very well then, the needful opportunity shall be given you after
luncheon this afternoon.”