Lord and Lady Ilfracombe had a pleasant time, yachting in the
Mediterranean. The weather was perfect; their companions, Captain
Knyvett and Mr Castelton, whom they had invited to accompany them,
proved to be agreeable and entertaining; and the _Débutante_ was as
luxurious a little vessel as can well be imagined. Nora, who was the
only lady on board, fascinated the whole crew, gentlemen and sailors
alike. Without being in the least masculine, she was as energetic and
as much to the fore as any man aboard. She did not suffer from _mal de
mer_, and had no feminine fads, fancies, or fears. She never failed to
appear at the breakfast-table, or to sit up playing cards, or singing
songs to her banjo, till the most wakeful among them was ready to turn
in. She sat on deck in all weathers, even when they encountered a
sharp squall and a downpour of rain. Lady Ilfracombe said she preferred
the open air to the saloon cabin, and had her wicker chair lashed to
the mast, and sat there, enveloped in her husband’s rough great coat
and her own spicy little naval cap with a peaked brim, encouraging
the efforts of the sailors, and chatting with her friends, as if she
did not know the name of danger. She was always lively, interested,
and good-tempered, and a general favourite with everybody. And yet
the earl, although he admired and was proud of his wife, did not feel
so happy in her possession as he had hoped to do. Nora’s disposition
had not altered with marriage. What woman’s ever did? The prudence
or coldness which had induced her to refuse her lover, a kiss or an
embrace before marriage, extended in a great measure to her behaviour
to her husband. Ilfracombe, like many another man in the same position,
had imagined her coolness to be due to maidenly reserve, and thought
that it would all disappear with wifehood. The greatest mistake men
ever make. Of matrimony, it might be written, as the terms on which
we are supposed to enter heaven are written of in the Bible, ‘Let the
flirt be a flirt still, and the prude be a prude still.’ Marriage is
far more likely to cool the ardent, than to warm the cold. And the
Countess of Ilfracombe had proved the truth of it. She did not actually
repulse her bridegroom, but she only permitted his attentions--she
never returned them. The earl was more in love with her than ever he
had been, perhaps for this very reason, but he could not help wishing
sometimes, with a sigh of disappointment, that she would put her arms
round his neck of her own accord, and press her lips to his, with
some little show of passion. Perhaps at such moments a memory would
come to him, of a perfect mouth that had been used to cling to his
with unconcealed rapture, and a pair of white arms that would hold
him so closely, that he would unlock them by force, and tell their
owner jestingly, that she would squeeze him to death if she did not
take greater care. He had enjoyed these things until he had wearied
of them, according to the manner of men, and now-- He almost thought
sometimes that Nora was colder and more distant to him than she had
been before marriage, but that seemed an impossibility. She preserved
the proprieties in public with the greatest care, was always courteous,
and even respectful to him, before company--listened quietly whilst he
spoke, and deferred to his opinion in everything. But when they were
alone, she was just as courteous, that was all; and if he pressed his
attentions on her, was apt to show the least signs of peevishness, or
weariness, or sudden illness, which never exhibited itself on other
occasions. But men in the flush of a new love are satisfied with
very little, and Nora’s indifference only served to keep the flame
bright and burning. One day, as she was reclining in her wicker chair,
surrounded by her court, she gave vent to the wish that they had
brought her favourite sister, Susie, with them, as she was sure she
would have enjoyed herself so much.
‘I wish we had,’ acquiesced Ilfracombe heartily. ‘And I wish I had
brought my old chum, Jack Portland, with me too! I invited him to
come out with me on the _Débutante_, but that would have entailed his
missing the Derby, and I don’t believe Jack would enter heaven, if he
had the chance, if the Derby had yet to be run!’
‘Ay! _if_ he had the chance--which I much doubt he ever will have,’
laughed Captain Knyvett.
‘Jack--who?’ demanded Nora.
‘Jack Portland, my darling,’ replied her husband, ‘I must have
mentioned him to you, surely! He’s one of my greatest friends, we’ve
been a lot together, on the turf and elsewhere. Jack’s one of the most
reliable prophets I ever came across. He can always give a fellow the
straight tip, and he’s marvellously correct; isn’t he, Castelton?’
‘Oh, yes, very good, when he likes,’ acquiesced that gentleman.
‘Oh, come Castelton, that’s not fair,’ cried the earl; ‘old Jack’s
always ready to oblige a chum, and I never knew him to make a wrong un.
I know he’s won me pots of money, over and over again!’
‘And lost them for you too, Ilfracombe,’ replied Mr Castelton.
‘Are we likely to see much of this immaculate being on our return to
England?’ inquired the countess in a rather tart tone. ‘He does not
appear to me to be a very desirable acquaintance.’
‘Oh, my darling, you are quite mistaken,’ exclaimed Ilfracombe. ‘Poor
old Jack is the best-natured fellow in the world. I am sure you will
like him immensely. You mustn’t think that he obtrudes his sporting
proclivities on the drawing-room. No man knows better how to behave
in the company of ladies than Jack Portland--indeed, he has rather a
character for liking their society too much. See the mischief you have
done, Castelton! You have made my wife’s lip curl at the mere idea of
our sporting friend.’
‘Indeed, Mr Castelton has done nothing of the sort, Ilfracombe, for, as
it happens, I already know Mr Portland, though I had no idea he was one
of your friends.’
‘You know Jack Portland!’ cried the earl with unaffected surprise.
‘Where on earth did you meet him, and why have you not spoken of him
to me before?’
‘To answer your last question first, Ilfracombe, simply because the
subject was not sufficiently interesting to recall itself to my mind.
And as for where I met him, it was of course in Malta, where, as you
know, I have vegetated for the best part of my life!’
‘In Malta?’ echoed the earl; ‘why, of course Jack has been there. It
never occurred to me before, but it was his recommendation of the place
that took me there. So I may almost say that I owe the happiness of
meeting you to him. Let me see! How long was it ago? Two years?’
‘There or thereabouts,’ said Nora indifferently.
‘And did you not like him, Nora? Did you not think him a very charming
man?’
The countess shrugged her shoulders.
‘Am I to tell you the truth, or to bow to the fact that Mr Portland is
one of your greatest friends, Ilfracombe?’ she replied.
‘The truth, of course, darling. I can hardly expect you to see
everybody with the same eyes as myself; but I cannot imagine anybody,
and especially any woman, disliking old Jack.’
‘Then I’m the odd man out,’ said his wife, with a _moue_.
‘Really. What did he do to offend you? I’m sure he must have fallen in
love with you; but you have experienced that sort of thing too often to
make it a cause of offence.’
‘Is it necessary for a person to actually affront you in order to
create a dislike? I don’t think I saw enough of Mr Portland to do him
that honour. He stayed, if I remember rightly, with Captain and Mrs
Loveless, in the dockyard, and they brought him to see my mother. He
is a tall, broad-shouldered fellow, is he not, with blue eyes and
reddish hair? Well, he struck me as horsey decidedly; and, perhaps,
that was the reason I didn’t cotton to him. But, pray, don’t imagine,
Ilfracombe, that I am going to make myself disagreeable to any friend
of yours. It is only that I am indifferent to him. My welcome will be
just in proportion to your wishes.’
‘My dearest girl, I am sure of that, and when you know him better,
you will like him as much as I do. He’s rattling good fun; isn’t he,
Castelton?’
‘Yes, according to our ideas, perhaps, Ilfracombe, but he might not
suit a lady as well. Jack has drank rather more than he ought to have
done of late years, and spoilt his beauty in consequence. Else he used
to be one of the handsomest fellows on the turf.’
‘Is it necessary to talk about Mr Portland any longer?’ demanded the
countess, with a yawn behind her hand. ‘Captain Knyvett, do fetch the
cards from the saloon, and let us have a game. We’ve been fooling all
the afternoon away. It is time we exercised our brains a little.’
‘What a strange thing it seems,’ said Ilfracombe afterwards to
Castelton, as they were smoking together on the poop, ‘that men
and women see with such different eyes! I should have thought Jack
Portland would have been an universal favourite with the beau sexe.
He’s a fine, manly, good-looking chap, with any amount of brains; and
yet Lady Ilfracombe, who really admires our sex more than her own--a
regular man’s woman she is, as any man, I think, would admit--can’t see
anything, apparently, to like in him. It is incredible to me! I shall
make a point of bringing them together as soon as we are settled at
Thistlemere.’
‘Lady Ilfracombe is so thoroughly charming in every respect,’ replied
Castelton, with admirable tact, ‘that I should feel inclined to trust
her judgment before my own. It is not at all necessary that a man and
his wife should have the same friends, or so I take it. That would
entail a great deal of irksome duty on your part, paid to women whom,
perhaps, you did not like. Mr Jack Portland is bound to get his full
dues from so perfect a hostess as Lady Ilfracombe, without thrusting
his company continually on her. And between ourselves, old fellow, I
really think his conversation and ideas are more fit for the stables
than the drawing-room.’
‘No, no! I won’t have you say that,’ cried the loyal earl. ‘Jack’s
a gentleman, and no man can be more. My wife will learn to like him
for my sake. Castelton, old chap! why don’t you get married? It’s the
loveliest experience in the world. Don’t believe all the humbug people
talk on the subject. Only try it, and you’ll agree with me.’
‘Perhaps I might and perhaps I mightn’t, my boy,’ replied his
companion. ‘I expect matrimony depends a great deal on the woman, and
we can’t all expect to draw a prize. You’ve drawn the lucky number,
Ilfracombe, and I might get a blank; so rest satisfied with your _coup
de main_, and don’t persuade your friends to come a cropper in hopes
of clearing the thorny fence as you have. But I congratulate you, old
fellow. I never saw a man so spooney in all my life; and it must really
be a delicious sensation when the object is your own wife, and not that
of some other man. By the way, now we are quite alone, may I ask you
what has become of Miss Llewellyn?’
The earl looked round to see what his wife was doing before he replied,
in a low tone,--
‘Oh! that’s all right, old boy. I’ve pensioned her off handsomely, and
she has gone back to her friends.’
Castelton opened his eyes.
‘Really! I shouldn’t have thought she was that sort of woman.’
‘What do you mean by “that sort of woman”?’
‘No offence, old chappie, be sure of that. No one admired her more than
I did. I think she is, without exception, the most beautiful creature
I ever saw, and as good as she is beautiful. But I fancied she was too
much attached to you to accept a pension.’
‘Oh, as to that,’ said the earl, rather shamefacedly, ‘she must be
provided for. I wouldn’t hear of anything else. You see, Castelton, you
mustn’t think me a brute; but it was on the cards that sooner or later
I should marry. My uncles were always at me about the necessity of an
heir, and all that sort of thing; and I suppose it is the penalty of
inheriting a title, that one must think of carrying it on. You know I
was fond of the woman--very fond, at one time--so was she of me, but
it had gone on long enough. Sterndale has managed the business for me.
I don’t know that I should have had enough nerve to do it for myself.
But it’s all happily ended by this time, and I’m going to give up such
frivolities for the future!’
‘Of course, of course--naturally,’ said his friend.
But when Lord Ilfracombe met his wife in the sanctity of their
state-cabin, he alluded again to the subject of Jack Portland.
‘It’s the most extraordinary thing in the world to me, Nora,’ he
commenced, ‘that Jack has not told me that he met you in Malta. For I
have had two letters from him since our marriage.’
‘Most likely he did not remember my name,’ replied Nora; ‘I was hardly
out of the nursery then, remember!’
‘What! at eighteen? Nonsense! You are not a woman for a man to see and
forget. He has never said that he met your father. And that you should
have never spoken his name, beats me altogether.’
‘Why, you never mentioned him yourself till to-day,’ she retorted.
‘Considering he is such an intimate friend of yours, is that not more
wonderful than the other?’
‘Oh, I know such lots of men!’
‘So do I,’ said Nora.
She was sitting on the side of the bed as she spoke, nursing her knees
and looking her husband straight in the face.
‘You talk like a fool,’ she continued hotly. ‘As if a girl could
remember every man she has met! And you have not mentioned people much
nearer home to me. Who is Miss Llewellyn?’
The question took Ilfracombe so completely by surprise, that he did not
know what to say.
‘Miss Llewellyn!’ he stammered. ‘Who has ever said anything to you
about Miss Llewellyn?’
‘I heard you mention her name this evening to Mr Castelton.’
‘Indeed! what sharp ears you must have!’
‘Perhaps, but that is no answer to my question. Who is she?’
‘Well, if you must know, she is, or rather was, my housekeeper. An
interesting discovery, isn’t it?’
‘Cela depend! And is she to be our housekeeper now?’
‘Certainly not! That is to say, she has gone home--her mother was sick
and wanted her--’
The countess got off the bed, and going up to her husband, laid her
hand upon his mouth,--
‘There, there, that will do,’ she said quietly; ‘don’t soil your
soul any more on my account, for it is a matter of the most perfect
indifference to me who she was or why she went. There are plenty more
housekeepers to be procured, I suppose, in England. But don’t forget
what I told you in Malta about the pot that called the kettle black,
_voila tout_!’
She gave him a little kiss to sweeten the unpalatable dose as she
concluded, and the ordeal was over--only the earl would rather she
had shown a little jealousy on the subject instead. He did not know
how much or how little she had overheard of his conversation with
Castelton, and he did not like to ask, lest she might blurt out some
disagreeable truths in his face. But the circumstance made him think
a great deal more of Nell Llewellyn than he would otherwise have done
whilst on his wedding tour. He wondered more than once if it were
possible that Nell would try to make things unpleasant for him and
Nora, or if there were any chance of a rencontre between the two women.
Nora might overlook or ignore a _liaison_ of the sort if it were not
brought beneath her immediate notice, but he felt sure she would hold
her own--perhaps make a public scandal if it became a personal affront.
He had heard nothing from Mr Sterndale since a letter in which he had
assured him that his instructions regarding Miss Llewellyn should be
faithfully carried out, and he could not expect to hear more until he
met the solicitor in England. He tried as far as possible to dismiss
the idea from his mind for the rest of the voyage, but he became
restless and uneasy as they approached the termination of it; and when,
towards the end of October, he found himself safely installed with
his wife at Thistlemere, the first thing he did was to summon his old
friend to render up an account of his stewardship. With the solicitor
arrived Mr Portland. Lord Ilfracombe had not advised the countess of
his advent. He wanted to give them both a surprise. Perhaps also to
find out for himself how far Nora had told the truth concerning her
acquaintance with him. Ilfracombe had always been perfectly frank
whilst living with Nell Llewellyn. Under the influence of Nora he was
beginning to keep back things which, theretofore, he would have never
dreamed of concealing. So truly do our intimate companions rule, to a
great degree, our characters. We are told that we cannot touch pitch
without being defiled. So must we always derive good or evil from
those we associate with. But if Lord Ilfracombe fancied he was a match
for either his wife or Jack Portland, he was very much mistaken. At
any rate, neither he nor anyone could have discovered a domestic plot
against his peace from the perfectly natural way in which they met
each other, for if anything was apparent, it was an almost unnatural
indifference on both sides. The countess was in the drawing-room when
her husband entered with both men in his train.
‘Nora,’ he commenced, ‘I bring an old friend of yours to offer his
congratulations on your having obtained such a prize as myself.’
Nora glanced at the two gentlemen with affected surprise.
‘Mr Sterndale is an old friend of _yours_, I know, Ilfracombe,’ she
said, sweetly; ‘and, therefore, if he will accept me as such, I trust
he will consider me his friend also. But--’ turning to where Jack
Portland stood bowing lowly before her, ‘this gentleman--surely I have
met him before! Why, of course, it is the very Mr Portland of whom we
spoke once on board the _Débutante_. How are you, Mr Portland? Do you
remember me after all this time? Did we not meet at Captain Loveless’s
once at a ball? Were you not staying with them?’
‘I was, Lady Ilfracombe. Mrs Loveless is my sister. What a long time
ago it seems. How little I imagined, when dear old Ilfracombe here
wrote me he was engaged to a Miss Abinger, that it actually was _the_
Miss Abinger with whom I had had the honour of dancing! But there were
so many of you!’
‘Dear me, yes--dozens! I have three sisters married besides myself!
Perhaps it was Bella or Marion, after all, whom you danced with instead
of me. We are considered very much alike.’
‘If you will excuse me saying so, I do not think I could have made a
mistake. But you must have been very young at the time?’
‘I was eighteen; I am twenty now,’ laughed Nora in a nervous manner. ‘I
never conceal my age, and never mean to. It is such folly. If a woman
looks too young for it, all the better. If too old, it will only make a
bad matter worse to take off a few years. Don’t you agree with me, Mr
Sterndale?’
‘I agree with everything your ladyship says, even if it went against my
own judgment,’ replied the solicitor.
‘My goodness, you’re quite a courtier! I thought the law allowed men
no time for cultivating the smaller graces. If ever I want to get a
separation from Ilfracombe, Mr Sterndale, I shall come to you to make
terms for me.’
‘Oh, dear me!’ exclaimed the solicitor, laughing; ‘your ladyship must
not depend on me in such a case, really! I have been his lordship’s man
of business for years, and I am not sure if such an unmitigated piece
of treachery would not rank with high treason.’
‘Well, here is dinner, which appeals to us all alike,’ cried Lady
Ilfracombe, as she placed her hand on the arm of Mr Jack Portland,
‘so let us drop all discussion, except that of good things, until it
is over,’ and the earl and the solicitor followed her gaily to the
dining-room. But Ilfracombe was longing to have a private interview
with Mr Sterndale, and as soon as the meal was concluded, he asked the
pardon of the others if he detained the solicitor for half an hour.
‘You can send us word when coffee is ready, Nora,’ he said to his wife
as Mr Portland held the door open for her ladyship to pass through,
and then, with a nod to his host, went after her.
As soon as they were well out of hearing, Ilfracombe lent over the
table and said to Sterndale in a lowered voice,--
‘I don’t see why we need go to the library; I am not in a mood for
accounts or anything of that sort to-night. I only want to ask you
about Miss Llewellyn. How did she take the news of my marriage,
Sterndale, and is she well out of England? Where did she go to, and
was she satisfied with the provision I made for her? To tell you the
truth, the thought of her has been bothering me a good deal lately. The
countess is a noble, generous girl, and quite up to snuff, but she is
high-spirited, and if there were any chance of her meeting the other,
or hearing much about her, I wouldn’t answer for the consequences.’
‘You need not be in the least afraid of that, Lord Ilfracombe,’ replied
the solicitor.
‘Are you sure? Did she accept a sum down, or did you invest the money
for her, and if so, how and where? Is she out of England, and likely to
remain so? I daresay you will vote me an alarmist, Sterndale, but you
see, when all’s said and done, Nell was very fond of me, and women turn
into perfect devils sometimes when they are crossed in such matters.’
‘I repeat, my lord, that you have no cause to fear the least annoyance
from Miss Llewellyn.’
‘Thank God for that,’ said the earl, with a look of relief. ‘And now,
tell me all you can about it, Sterndale. Was she much upset at the idea
of my giving her up? Had you any difficulty about it? Or did she accept
the inevitable, and clear out quietly?’
Mr Sterndale prepared himself for a conference, previously to
commencing which he rose, and having seen that the dining-room door was
securely fastened, sat down again opposite to the earl.
‘I have rather a painful duty before me, my lord. Painful, that is
to say, in one sense, but, to my mind, providential in another. Your
lordship is now happily married, and, doubtless, would wish to cast
even the memory of the past behind you.’
‘It is my desire to do so, to forget it ever existed, if possible,’
said the young man eagerly; ‘but still I feel that will not be feasible
until I am assured that Miss Llewellyn is well provided for, and in a
fair way to be happy.’
‘Very praiseworthy and generous,’ murmured the solicitor, ‘but quite
unnecessary. In the first place, my lord, Miss Llewellyn blankly
refused to accept any settlement or provision at your hands. She took
the draft which I submitted for her approval and tore it across, and
flung the pieces in my face. Indeed, I may say, the young woman was
exceedingly rude to me, but I can afford to forgive it now.’
‘I am sorry to hear that, Sterndale, but I suppose your news upset
her. She was not accustomed to be rude in manners or speech to any of
my friends. But, doubtless, she apologised. She took the settlement on
reconsideration.’
‘Indeed, she did not, Lord Ilfracombe! She has never taken it.’
‘Then how is she living?’ asked the earl eagerly. ‘Where is she at
present?’
‘I must prepare your lordship for a slight shock,’ replied the
solicitor gravely, ‘for it was a shock to me. Miss Llewellyn is no
more.’
‘_No more!_ Do you mean me to understand that she is dead?’ exclaimed
Ilfracombe with a look of horror.
‘Exactly so, my lord. The unfortunate young woman is certainly dead.
She had an ungovernable temper, and it led her to a rash end. She threw
herself into the river.’
The earl’s eyes were almost starting out of his head.
‘She committed suicide, and for my sake?’ he exclaimed. ‘Oh, my God! my
God!’
He bent his head down on his hands, and the tears trickled through his
clasped hands.
‘Nell dead!’ he kept on murmuring, ‘Nell under the water! Oh, it is
impossible. I cannot believe it. My poor Nell. This news will wreck all
my happiness.’
‘Lord Ilfracombe,’ exclaimed Mr Sterndale, quickly, ‘I beg of you to
compose yourself. What if the servants, or her ladyship, were to enter
the room. This unfortunate affair is none of your doing. You have no
occasion to blame yourself. You did all, and more than most men would
have done to secure the welfare of the young person in question, and if
she choose to fling your kindness back in your face, the blame lies at
her own door.’
‘Are you _sure_ of it?’ said Ilfracombe presently, as he made a great
effort to control his feelings. ‘How did you hear of it? Did you
actually see and recognise her dead body?’
‘No, I cannot go so far as to say that, my lord, but I have every
circumstantial evidence of the fact. Miss Llewellyn disappeared from
Grosvenor Square, as Warrender can tell you, on the night of the 20th
of August, and has never been seen or heard of since. On that night a
woman threw herself into the Thames, whose description tallies with
hers. Here is the account of the affair published in the next morning’s
papers,’ handing the earl the paragraph he had cut from the _Standard_,
‘and on instituting every inquiry, I had no reason to doubt that the
young woman, who either threw herself or fell into the river, was
our unfortunate friend. With a view to ascertaining the truth more
accurately, I examined her belongings in Grosvenor Square, none of
which she had taken with her, another fact which points conclusively,
in my mind, to the idea of suicide, and amongst them, in her jewel
case, I found this scrap of paper, evidently addressed to your
lordship, and which I preserved with a view of delivering over to you
when you should question me as to the matter you left in my charge.’
Saying which, the solicitor placed the scrap of paper he had found with
Nell’s trinkets in the earl’s hands. Ilfracombe read the poor, pathetic
little message over and over again, ‘Good-bye, my only love. I cannot
live without you,’ and then without comment, having folded the paper
and placed it in his pocket-book, he rose trembling from the table and
staggered towards the door.
‘Sterndale!’ he ejaculated in a faint voice, ‘I cannot speak with you
about this now, some other time, perhaps, but for the present I must
be alone. Go to the countess, there’s a good fellow, and keep her from
following me. Say I have had a sudden summons to the stables, that
there is something wrong with one of the horses, and leave me to tell
my own story when I return. I won’t be long. Only give me a few minutes
in which to overcome this fearful shock. You know I was fond of her,
Sterndale, and I must feel her death a little. I never dreamt it would
come to this--that death would part us--never, never.’
And with his pocket handkerchief to his eyes, the earl rushed up to his
own room.
Meanwhile Mr Portland had been saying to the countess,--
‘By George, Nora, I do think you are the very cleverest woman I know.
I always did think so, you know, and now I’m sure of it. No one to see
you this afternoon would have imagined we had ever met before.’
‘Well, naturally, I didn’t intend them to think so. I determined on
that as soon as Ilfracombe told me you were a friend of his. What is
the good of telling everybody everything? It only leads to quarrels.
So as I am quite sure Ilfracombe has not told _me_ everything that he
has done before marriage, I determined he should have a _quid pro quo_.
But, Jack, you must keep the secret now for both our sakes. You will
let me have back my letters, won’t you?’
‘Of course I will, that is if you are so hard-hearted as to take my
only comfort from me. But where is the good of it? You don’t want to
read them over yourself, surely?’
‘Goose! as if I would. They are awful rubbish, from what I can
remember. Only it has become dangerous now, you know, and I should
never feel easy unless I had destroyed them.’
‘Won’t my destroying them do as well?’
‘No, because you men are so careless, and something might happen to you
during your steeplechases or hunting, and then they would be found, and
the news would be all over the shop. You _will_ give them back to me,
Jack, won’t you?’ in a pleading tone.
‘Did I ever refuse you anything, Nora? You shall have the letters, or
anything else you set your heart on, only continue to be nice to me as
you were in Malta.’
‘Then give them to me,’ she said in an earnest voice.
‘Why, you don’t imagine I carry them about with me in my waistcoat
pocket, do you? I take much more care of them that. They are at my
London diggings, safely locked away in my dispatch box.’
‘Oh, when shall you go back and fetch them?’ exclaimed the countess.
‘That is not very hospitable of you, Nora,’ said Mr Portland, ‘when I
have not yet spent a day at Thistlemere! No, no, you mustn’t be quite
so impatient as all that. You shall have the precious letters in good
time, though why you cannot leave them where they have been for the
last two years, beats me altogether.’
‘You know I asked for them back before you left Malta, and you wouldn’t
give them to me,’ said Lady Ilfracombe, ‘and now it is much more
important than it was then. I was a fool not to make my father insist
on their return, but I was so dreadfully afraid that he would read
them.’
‘Ah, that wouldn’t have done, would it?’ returned Mr Portland
carelessly. ‘You had better leave them with me, Nora. I’m their best
custodian. The perusal of them gives me pleasure, whilst on others it
might have a contrary effect, eh?’
‘No, no, you have promised to return them to me, and you must keep your
word,’ her ladyship was replying just as Mr Sterndale entered the room,
and said,--
‘Lord Ilfracombe sends his apologies to you, my lady, but one of the
horses requires his attention and he has strolled out to the stables,
but he desired me to tell you that he will not be absent more than a
few minutes.’
END OF VOL. I.
COLSTON AND COMPANY, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.
Transcriber’s Note:
This book was written in a period when many words had not become
standardized in their spelling. Words may have multiple spelling
variations or inconsistent hyphenation in the text. These have been
left unchanged. Jargon, dialect, obsolete and alternative spellings
were retained. Misspelled words were corrected.
Words and phrases in italics are surrounded by underscores, _like
this_. Those in bold are surrounded by equal signs, =like this=.
Obvious printing errors, such as backwards, upside down, or partially
printed letters and punctuation, were corrected. Final stops missing at
the end of sentences and abbreviations were added.