The impulses of men in love are as various as their natures. Where one
will linger around the fatal charmer and hug his pain, another will fly
from
"The cruel madness of love,
The honey of poison-flowers, and all the measureless ill."
Lancaster, being wise, chose the latter part. He had an innate
conviction that Leonora would accept Lieutenant De Vere. He did not
feel strong enough to witness his friend's happiness just yet. He felt
that if he remained he might betray his passion and be laughed at for
his pains. He sought safety from himself in ignominious flight.
What was Lady Lancaster's dismay next morning, when she arose to her
late breakfast, to find a note awaiting her from that troublesome
nephew. She was in a great rage when she read it. She pushed back her
dainty, untasted repast, which had been served in the privacy of her
own room, and rang her bell violently.
"Present my compliments to Lieutenant De Vere, and ask him to come to
me for ten minutes," she said, sharply, to the servant who answered the
summons.
He came immediately, full of wonder at this abrupt summons, and found
her pacing up and down the floor in a great rage which she did not take
any pains to conceal.
"Did you know of any reason Lord Lancaster could have for going up to
London this morning?" she asked him, after they had gone through the
preliminaries of a hasty good-morning.
"No," he replied, gazing at her in surprise.
"Well, he has gone--did you know that?" she demanded.
"Yes, I heard from his groom that he went at daylight this morning," he
replied.
"Here is a note he left for me," she said, angrily. "He says he has
been suddenly called away by urgent business--may be detained a week or
more, and wishes me to present excuses and regrets to you and the rest
of the company."
"I am very sorry he had to go," said the lieutenant.
"But do you believe that he really has business?" she inquired,
peevishly.
"Of course he had--or why should he have gone?" inquired the handsome
young fellow, staring at her in amazement.
"I don't know--but I have my suspicions. I half believe that he has run
away from me and Lady Adela. If I were quite sure of it, I'd have my
revenge," she muttered, irascibly.
"What an old shrew! I don't blame Lancaster for running away. I'm quite
sure I should do so, too, if she bullied me as she does Lancaster,"
said the young fellow to himself, but aloud, he said, with an air of
surprise:
"My dear Lady Lancaster, I am sure you wrong my friend. Why should he
run away from you, his kind friend, and from the beautiful Lady Adela?"
"Ah, why? I have my suspicions, Lieutenant De Vere, but I shall not
impart them to any one--at least not yet. But he has behaved very
badly, going off like this. I do not know how to make excuses for him,
least of all to Lady Adela. She was jealous last night. I could see
that. What will she say now? Clive has been playing fast and loose with
me ever since last fall. It can not go on forever. I shall make him
understand that."
"Do not be too hard upon him. Give him time, Lady Lancaster. He will
not brook harshness, he will break a tight rein and escape from it. You
should know that much of all men's natures," said De Vere, pleading for
his friend.
"I have not been hard upon him. I have been most patient; but his
behavior is inexplicable," cried she. "I have offered a wife and a
fortune to him--a beautiful, high-bred, high-born wife, and a splendid
fortune--yet he is indifferent to both. All Lady Adela's beauty makes
no impression on him. He is barely civil to her. What is the matter
with him, Lieutenant De Vere? Is he going to be fool enough to fly in
the face of his own good fortune?"
"I hope not," said Lieutenant De Vere, but he looked very anxious. He
remembered that "whom the gods wish to destroy they first make mad."
Lancaster was mad--mad with love for the beautiful, penniless American
girl, Leonora West. De Vere had suspected it all along, he was sure of
it now. That song last night had opened his eyes. A pang of bitter,
futile jealousy shot through his heart. He believed that his friend was
an unacknowledged rival. A vague terror of the end rushed over him. Who
would win, Lancaster or himself?
Lady Lancaster came nearer to him--she looked anxiously at him with her
small, bead-like black eyes.
"You and Clive are intimate," she said; "you ought to know a great
deal about him. Tell me what it is that makes him so blind to his own
interests? Is there any one in the way? Is there any woman in the case?"
"I am not in Lancaster's confidence, believe me, Lady Lancaster," he
replied. "If there be any woman in the case, he has never told me so.
Perhaps you are making a mountain out of a little mole-hill."
She studied him attentively.
"You are his friend. I shall find out nothing from you. I can see
that," she said.
"You will never learn anything from me derogatory to his interests--be
sure of that," he replied, loyal to his friend in spite of his
reawakened jealousy.
"And your own wooing--how does that prosper?" she inquired, with
something like a sneer, abruptly changing the subject.
He flushed indignantly.
"You are pleased to jest on delicate subjects, Lady Lancaster," he
said, stiffly.
"I beg your pardon," she answered, quickly, "I did not know you were so
sensitive, but I assure you that I take a great interest in your love
affair."
"Thank you. I understand the origin of your great interest," he
answered with a slight smile; and she winced perceptibly. She did not
want him to know whither her suspicions tended.
"I dare say you think me a very meddlesome old woman," she said,
abruptly; "but you have my best wishes for a successful suit. Miss West
is beautiful and accomplished, and with your wealth you can have no
difficulty in lifting her to your level."
"She is the most beautiful of women," he answered, forgetting his
momentary ill-humor in the pleasure she awoke in him by her artful
praise of Leonora.
"And you will lose no time in making her your own? Delays are
dangerous," she said, with a subtle meaning in her tone that made his
heart beat.
"I know that. But I am a coward; I am almost afraid to ask her for the
boon I crave most upon earth," he said, giving her in those few words a
glimpse into his full heart.
"Pshaw! you are a coward," said my lady, laughing. "Where is the woman
who is going to refuse you with your face and your fortune? You are a
prize in the matrimonial market."
"But I want to be accepted for myself, and not for my fortune, Lady
Lancaster," he answered, proudly, and yet not without a sense of
satisfaction over these worldly advantages of his. It was very pleasant
to be his own master, to be able to do as he pleased, to ask no one's
leave to marry whom he wished.
Lady Lancaster laughed a very disagreeable laugh.
"As I am such an old woman, you will forgive me for telling you not to
be a fool, Lieutenant De Vere," she said. "There are very few men who
are married for themselves alone in these days, and, let me add, there
are very few who deserve it. The average woman looks out for money and
position now. Be sensible, and thank your lucky stars that when you go
to court Miss West you can carry a fortune in your hand, as well as a
heart."
"What a very disagreeable old woman!" he said to himself, reddening
with vexation. "She is full of spleen and venom. I must go out or I
shall be tempted to say something sharp to her."
He went, and as he was leaving, she fired a last shot at him:
"Take my advice, and don't delay the proposal, young man. Don't let
excessive modesty deter you. Remember that faint heart never won fair
lady."