BEHIND THE ARRAS.
It was quite true that Lady May was not at home. She was actually, with
a little charming palpitation, driving to pay a very interesting visit
to Grace Maubray. In affairs of the kind that now occupied her mind, she
had no confidants but very young people.
Miss Maubray was at home--and instantly Lady May's plump instep was seen
on the carriage step. She disdained assistance, and descended with a
heavy skip upon the flags, where she executed an involuntary frisk that
carried her a little out of the line of advance.
As she ascended the stairs, she met her friend Lord Wynderbroke coming
down. They stopped for a moment on the landing, under a picture of Cupid
and Venus; Lady May, smiling, remarked, a little out of breath, what a
charming day it was, and expressed her amazement at seeing him in
town--a surprise which he agreeably reciprocated. He had been at
Glenkiltie in the Highlands, where he had accidentally met Mr. David
Arden. "Miss Maubray is in the drawing-room," he said, observing that
the eyes of the good lady glanced unconsciously upward at the door of
that room. And then they parted affectionately, and turned their backs
on each other with a sense of relief.
"Well, my dear," she said to Grace Maubray as soon as they had kissed,
"longing to have a few minutes with you, with ever so much to say. You
have no idea what it is to be stopped on the stairs by that tiresome
man--I'll never quarrel with you again for calling him a bore. No
matter, here I am; and really, my dear, it _is_ such an odd affair--not
quite that; such an odd scene, I don't know where or how to begin."
"I wish I could help you," said Miss Maubray laughing.
"Oh, my dear, you'd never guess in a hundred years."
"How do you know? Hasn't a certain baronet something to do with it?"
"Well, well--dear me! That is _very_ extraordinary. Did he tell you he
was going to--to--Good gracious! My dear, it _is_ the most extraordinary
thing. I believe you hear everything; but--a--but _listen_. Not an hour
ago he came--Richard Arden, of course, we mean--and, my dear Grace, he
spoke so very nicely of his troubles, poor fellow, you know--debts I
mean, of course--not the least his fault, and all that kind of thing,
and--he went on--I really don't know how to tell you. But he said--he
said--he said he liked me, and no one else on earth; and he was on the
very point of saying _everything_, when, just at that moment, who should
come in but that gossiping old woman, Lady Botherton--and he whispered,
as he was going, that he would return, after I had had my drive. The
carriage was at the door, so, when I got rid of the old woman, I got
into it, and came straight here to have a talk with you; and what do you
think I ought to say? Do tell me, like a darling, do!"
"I wish you would tell _me_ what one ought to say to that question,"
said Grace Maubray with a slight disdain (that young lady was in the
most unreasonable way piqued), "for I'm told he's going to ask me
precisely the same question."
"_You_, my dear?" said Lady May after a pause, during which she was
staring at the smiling face of the young lady; "you can't be serious!"
"_He_ can't be serious, you mean," answered the young lady, "and--who's
this?" she broke off, as she saw a cab drive up to the hall-door. "Dear
me! is it? No. Yes, indeed, it is Sir Richard Arden. We must not be seen
together. He'll know you have been talking to me. Just go in here."
She opened the door of the boudoir adjoining the room.
"I'll send him away in a moment. You may hear every word I have to say.
I should like it. I shall give him a lecture."
As she thus spoke she heard his step on the stair, and motioned Lady May
into the inner room, into which she hurried and closed the door, leaving
it only a little way open.
These arrangements are hardly completed when Sir Richard is announced.
Grace is positively angry. But never had she looked so beautiful; her
eyes so tenderly lustrous under their long lashes; her colour so
brilliant--an expression so maidenly and sad. If it was acting, it was
very well done. You would have sworn that the melancholy and agitation
of her looks, and the slightly quickened movement of her breathing, were
those of a person who felt that the hour of her fate had come.
With what elation Richard Arden saw these beautiful signs!