LUCY.
About a week after the conversation detailed in the last chapter, the
train stopped at the little station near Dalton village, and Leon
Dudleigh stepped out. At the same time a woman got out of another
carriage in the train. She was dressed in black, and a crape veil
concealed her face. Leon Dudleigh stood and looked about for a few
moments in search of some vehicle in which to complete his journey, and
as the train went on he walked into the little station-house to make
inquiries. The woman followed slowly. After exchanging a few words with
the ticket clerk, Leon found out that no vehicle was to be had in the
neighborhood, and with an exclamation of impatience he told the clerk
that he supposed he would have to walk, and at the same time asked him
some questions about getting his luggage forwarded to the inn at Dalton.
Having received a satisfactory answer, he turned to the door and walked
toward the village.
[Illustration: “AT THAT MOMENT THE WOMAN RAISED HER VEIL.”]
The woman who had followed him into the station-house had already left
it, and was walking along the road ahead of him. She was walking at a
slow pace, and before long Leon came up with her. He had not noticed her
particularly, and was now about passing her, when at that very moment
the woman raised her veil, and turned about so as to face him.
At the sight of her face Leon uttered an exclamation of amazement and
started back.
“Lucy!” he exclaimed, in a tone of deep and bitter vexation.
“Aha, Leon!” said the woman, with a smile. “You thought you would give
me the slip. You didn't know what a watch I was keeping over you.”
At this Leon regarded her in gloomy silence, while the expression of
deep vexation remained unchanged on his face.
The woman who had thus followed him was certainly not one who ought to
inspire any thing like vexation. Her face was beautiful in outline and
expression. Her eyes were dark and animated, her tone and manner
indicated good-breeding and refinement, though these were somewhat more
vivacious than is common with English ladies.
“I don't see what brought _you_ here,” said Leon at last.
“I might say the same of you, _mon cher_,” replied the lady, “but I
have a faint idea, and I have no desire to give you too much liberty.”
“It's some more of your confounded jealousy,” said Leon, angrily. “My
business here is a very delicate one indeed. I may have to do it
incognito, and it may ruin all if I have any one here who knows me.”
“Incognito?” said the lady. “That will be charming; and if so, who can
help you better than I? I can be your mother, or your grandmother, or
your business partner, or any thing. You ought to have insisted on my
accompanying you.”
The light tone of raillery in which this was spoken did not in any way
mollify the chagrin of the other, who still looked at her with a frown,
and as she ended, growled out,
“I don't see how you got on my track, confound it!”
“Nothing easier,” said the lady. “You didn't take any pains to hide your
tracks.”
“But I told you I was going back to Dudleigh.”
“I know you did, _mon cher_; but do you think I believed you?”
“I don't see how you followed me,” said Leon again.
“Well, I don't intend to let you know all my resources,” said the lady,
with a smile, “for fear you will baffle me some other time. But now
come, don't let yourself get into a passion. Look at me, and see how
good-natured and sweet-tempered I am. Your reception of me is really
quite heart-rending, and I have a great mind to go back again at once
and leave you.”
“I wish you would,” said Leon, rudely.
“But I won't,” said the lady. “So come, be yourself again, for you can
be sweet-tempered if you only try hard, you know.”
“Now see here, Lucy,” said Leon, sternly, “you don't know what you're
doing. It's all very well to pass it off as a frolic, but it won't do.
This business of mine is too serious to admit of trifling. If it were my
own affair, I wouldn't care; and even if I didn't want you, I should
submit with a good grace. But this is a matter of extreme delicacy, and
my father has sent me here because he was unable to come himself. It is
a--a law matter. I went to London merely to see the solicitors. I didn't
tell a soul about my business, and I thought that no one knew I was
coming here except my father and the solicitors.”
“Well, but I'm always an exception, you know,” said the lady,
pleasantly.
“Oh, see here, now,” said the other, “it's all very well for you to
meddle with my own affairs; but you are now forcing yourself into the
midst of the concerns of others--the business affairs of two great
estates. I must attend to this alone.”
“_Mon cher_,” said the lady, with unalterable placidity, “business
is not one of your strong points. You really are not fit to manage any
important matter alone. At Dudleigh you have your papa to advise with,
at London your papa's solicitors, and here at Dalton you need a sound
adviser too. Now is there any one in whom you could put greater
confidence, or who could give you better advice on innumerable matters,
than the unworthy being who now addresses you? Come, don't keep up the
sulks any longer. They are not becoming to your style of beauty. For my
part, I never sulk. If you will reflect for a moment, you will see that
it is really a great advantage for you to have with you one so sagacious
and shrewd as I am; and now that the first moment of irritation has
passed, I trust you will look upon my humble offer of service with more
propitious eyes.”
Something in these words seemed to strike Leon favorably, for the
vexation passed away from his face, and he stood looking thoughtfully at
the ground, which he was mechanically smoothing over with his foot. The
lady said no more, but watched him attentively, in silence, waiting to
see the result of his present meditations.
“Well,” said he at last, “I don't know but that something may arise in
this business, Lucy, in which you may be able to do something--though
what it may be I can not tell just now.”
“Certainly,” said the lady, “if you really are thinking of an incognito,
my services may be of the utmost importance.”
“There's something in that,” said Leon.
“But whether the incognito is advisable or not should first be seen. Now
if you would honor me with your confidence to ever so small an extent, I
could offer an opinion on that point which might be worth having. And I
will set you a good example by giving you my confidence. Frankly, then,
the only reason why I followed you was because I found out that there
was a lady in the case.”
“So that's it, is it!” said Leon, looking at her curiously.
“Yes,” said the lady. “And I heard that your father sent you, and that
you had been talking with his solicitors. Now as you are not in the
habit of doing business with your father, or talking with his
solicitors, the thing struck me very forcibly; and as there was a
lady--in fact, a rich heiress--in the case, and as you are frightfully
in debt, I concluded that it would be well for me to see how the
business proceeded; for I sometimes do not have that confidence in you,
Leon, which I should like to have.”
This was spoken in a serious and mournful voice which was totally
different from the tone of raillery in which she had at first indulged.
As she concluded she fixed her eyes sadly on Leon, and he saw that they
were suffused with tears.
“You preposterous little goose!” said Leon. “There never was a wilder,
a sillier, and at the same time a more utterly groundless fancy than
this. Why, to begin with, the lady is my cousin.”
“I know,” said the lady, sadly.
“It seems to me you found out every thing, though how the deuce you
contrived it is more than I can tell,” said Leon.
“Our faculties are very much sharpened where our interests are
concerned,” said the lady, sententiously.
“Now, see here,” said Leon. “It is true that this lady is my cousin, and
that she is an heiress, and that I am infernally hard up, and that my
father sent me here, and that I have been talking with the solicitors;
but I swear to you the subject of marriage has not once been mentioned.”
“But only thought of,” suggested the other.
“Well, I don't know any thing about people's thoughts,” said Leon. “If
you go into that style of thing, I give up. By-the-way, you know so
much, that I suppose you know the lady's name.”
“Oh yes: Miss Dalton--Edith Dalton.”
“The devil!” exclaimed Leon. “Well, I confess I'm mystified. How you
could have found out all this is utterly beyond me.”
“So you have no idea of matrimony, _mon cher_?” said the lady,
attempting to use a sprightly tone, but looking at him with a glance so
earnest that it showed what importance she attached to his reply.
Leon was silent for a moment, and looked at the ground. At last he burst
forth impatiently:
“Oh, confound it all! what's the use of harping forever on one string,
and putting a fellow in a corner all the time? You insist on holding an
inquisition about thoughts and intentions. How do I know any thing about
that? You may examine me about facts if you choose, but you haven't any
business to ask any thing more.”
“Well, I suppose it _is_ rather unfair,” said the lady in a sweet
voice, “to force one to explain all one's thoughts and intentions; so,
_mon cher_, let's cry quits. At any rate, you receive me for your
ally, your adviser, your guide, philosopher, and friend. If you want
incognitos or disguises, come to me.”
“Well, I suppose I must,” said Leon, “since you are here, and won't go;
and perhaps you may yet be really useful, but--”
“But at first I ought to know what the present condition is of this
'business' of yours.”
“Oh, I've no objection to tell you now, since you know so much; in fact,
I believe you know all, as it is.”
“Well, not quite all.”
“It seems to me,” said Leon, “if we're going to talk over this matter
any further, we might find some better place than the middle of a public
road. Let me see,” he continued, looking all around--“where shall we
go?”
As he looked around his eyes caught sight of the little river that
flowed near, on its course through Dalton to the Bristol Channel. Some
trees grew on the margin, and beneath them was some grass. It was not
more than twenty yards away.
“Suppose we sit there by the river,” said Leon, “and we can talk it
over.”
The lady nodded, and the two walked to the river margin.
* * * * *
[Illustration: “SHE WAS SEATED NEAR THE WINDOW.”]