The Brays' mansion in Harley-street, and as grand a dinner as had been
in the long, gaunt, dreary place for months past. Sir Philip and
Charley had called the morning before, and Nelly had planted herself by
Charley's side, to keep there the whole time. Not that Laura seemed to
mind; for she was gentle, slightly constrained, but there was a saddened
suffering look in her countenance which lighted up whenever Charley said
a few words.
For some reason she kept glancing at him with a troubled air--perhaps
from some dread in connection with her plain avowals; but Charley was
the quiet gentleman in every word and look; and before they left, all
seemed to be quite at ease, so that the young man was almost angry with
himself for feeling so quiet and happy during the half-hour or so the
visit had lasted, besides which he had been merrily laughing two or
three times with Nelly.
"Do, do, please!" Nelly had whispered; and those whispers had made
Laura's breast heave as she interpreted them to relate to Ella Bedford,
whose name, however, had not been mentioned.
"I daren't," said Charley laughingly, in answer to Nelly's appeal.
"O do--_do_--do!" whispered Nelly again. "You owe me ever so much for
being your friend."
Charley's face darkened.
"Please I didn't mean to hurt you," said Nelly gently; "don't be angry
with me," for she had seen the cloud cross his countenance.
"I'm not angry, my child," he said, smiling again.
"That's right!" whispered Nelly. "I do love to see you laugh; it makes
you look so handsome. I say, Charley, I do wish you had been my
brother! But now, I say, do declare you won't come unless they let me
dine with you all. I am so sick of the schoolroom."
Poor Nelly! Inadvertently she kept touching chords that thrilled in
Charley Vining's breast; but he beat back the feelings, and laughingly
said aloud that he thought he should not be able to come.
"O, really," shrieked Mrs Bray, "I shall be so disappointed!"
Laura looked pained, but she did not direct her eyes Vining-ward.
"I find that a particular old friend of mine is not coming to dinner,"
said Charley, "and therefore I shall decline."
"O, really, my dear Vining," said Mr Bray, ceasing to warm the tails of
his coat, "don't say so; give us his name, and we'll invite him at
once."
"'Tain't a him at all," cried the ungrammatical one, jumping up,
laughing, and clapping her hands; "it's a her, and it's me; so there
now--you must have me to dinner, after all. And why not, I should like
to know. I'm only an inch shorter than pa."
So Nelly dined with them that day, and Charley took her down, and sat
between her and Laura, "behaving more jolly than ever he did before," so
Nelly vowed; while Laura could not but own to the quiet, staid,
gentlemanly tact with which he avoided all the past; and trembling and
hopeful, she watched him unseen the whole evening.
He did not, neither did she, seek a _tete-a-tete_; but at the first
opportunity Nelly dragged him aside in one of the drawing-rooms, under
the pretence of showing him pictures; and though Laura saw all, she did
not stir.
"That's pretty, ain't it?" said Nelly. "I sketched that." Then in a
low voice, "You like me, Charley, don't you?"
"Yes, very much, my child," said Charley quietly. "Do you want me to do
something for you?"
"No," said Nelly; "I only want to say something."
"Go on, then."
"You will not be cross?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, yes, my child," said Charley sadly.
"It's about that I wanted to talk to you," said Nelly. "I don't like
seeing you so low and dumpy when you ought to be jolly and happy. You
know you are miserable about some one that I got to love very--very
much."
Charley was silent; but his breath came thick and fast.
"And do you know, I'm sure that, if she had been left alone she would
have been all that's wise and good and dear? May I go on?"
"Yes," said Charley, with quite a hiss.
"I thought you would like me to say anything, when you wouldn't hear it
from any one else. Do you know, Charley, you mustn't be miserable about
Miss B--any more? and if I wasn't going to have Hugh Lingon when I get
big--I mean old enough--I should ask you to let me love you, and try and
comfort you, and make you happy. I do love you very much now, you know,
but I mean the other way."
She was silent for a few moments, while he went on turning over the
pictures.
"Charley," she then said earnestly, "I don't think she has done right;
but whether she's been persuaded, or somebody's told stories about you.
Max goes to see her very often--nearly every day now--and she writes to
him lots of letters. O Charley, dear Charley!" she half sobbed, "what
have I done? Pray!--please don't look like that! I thought telling you
would make you leave off looking miserable, and ready to be happy again
when you knew you couldn't have her. But pray--pray don't look like
that!"
For the young man's ghastly face had frightened her, as he stood gazing
full in her eyes, crushing the while one of the drawings in his hand.
"How do you know that?" he whispered hoarsely.
"I heard Max tell Laury; and one day, when I went with her to his rooms,
there was a whole heap of little narrow envelopes directed to him, and
they were all in her handwriting. But please try and not fret, or I
shall be so--so unhappy."
Charley drew a deep long breath, and for the space of a good minute he
stood there supporting himself by, and gazing blankly down at, the
table, for a sharp pang had shot through him, and he felt giddy; but the
next minute it passed off, as he muttered to himself:
"Not yet, not yet. I must have farther proof!"
Then, by an effort, he recovered himself, and leading Nelly to the
piano, he sat by her while she sang. A few minutes after, he was by
Laura's side, talking to her quietly and gently, as he would have talked
to any other lady.
And she knew the while what had passed in the farther drawing-room--knew
as well as if she had listened; for she knew that Nelly had heard her
brothers words, and, in spite of Nelly's quickness, Laura had seen her
looking at the letters that were in Ella's handwriting.
Laura's breast heaved as Charley sat beside her, and again she trembled,
and her heart smote her as she saw how deeply that wound had been cut.
But though she pitied, she was hopeful; for she said to herself, "The
day must come when Max's words will be true, and he will run to me for
solace. The day must come! But when?"
Volume 2, Chapter XXIV.