Kate Mansfield, Miss Dartelle's maid, had taken, as she expressed it, "a
great fancy" to Gustave. She was a pretty, quick, bright-eyed girl, not
at all accustomed to giving her smiles in vain. Gustave--who had been
with Lord Chandon for many years--was handsome too in his way. He had an
intelligent face, eyes that were bright and full of expression, and a
somewhat mocking smile, which added, in Kate's mind, considerable to his
charms. He had certainly appeared very attentive to her; and up to the
present Kate had felt pretty sure of her conquest. She heard Gustave
say, as his master was out for the day, he should have a long ramble on
the seashore; and the pretty maid, having put on her most becoming
bonnet, made some pretext for going to the shore at the same time. She
quite expected to meet him, "And then," as she said to herself, with a
smile, "the seaside is a romantic place. And who knows what may happen?"
But when Kate had reached the shore, and her bright eyes had wandered
over the sands she saw no Gustave. "He has altered his mind," she
thought, "and has gone elsewhere."
She walked on, somewhat disappointed, but feeling sure that she should
meet him before she returned home. Presently her attention was attracted
by the sound of a man's voice, and, looking round a bowlder, she saw
Gustave in deep conversation with the governess, Miss Holte.
Kate was already jealous of Miss Holte--jealous of her beauty and of the
favor with which Lady Dartelle regarded her.
"I do hate governesses!" Kate was wont to observe to her friends in the
kitchen. "I can do with the airs and graces of real ladies--they seem
natural--but I cannot endure governesses; they always seem to me neither
the one thing nor the other."
Then a sharp battle of words would ensue with Mary King, who was devoted
to the young governess.
"You may say what you like, Kate, but I tell you Miss Holte is a lady. I
know one when I see one."
And now the jealous eyes of Kate Mansfield dwelt with fierce anger on
Hyacinth.
"Call her a lady!" she said to herself sneeringly. "Ladies do not talk
to servants in that fashion. Why, she clasps hands as though she were
begging and praying him about something! I will say nothing now, but I
will tell Miss Dartelle; she will see about it." And Kate went home in
what she called a "temper."
Gustave walked away full of thought. He would certainly act honorably
toward Miss Vaughan--would give her fair warning before he said anything
to Lord Chandon. Perhaps, after all, she knew best. It might be better
that his master should know nothing of her being there; it was just
possible that there were circumstances in the case of which he knew
nothing, and there was some rumor in the servant's hall about his master
and Miss Dartelle. Doubtless it would be wise to accede to Miss
Vaughan's request and say nothing.
But during the remainder of that day Gustave was so silent, so
preoccupied, that his fellow-servants were puzzled to discover the
reason. He did not even take notice of Kate's anger. He spoke to her,
and did not observe that she was disinclined to answer; nor did he seem
to understand her numerous allusions to "underhand people" and "cunning
ways."
"I almost think," said Gustave to himself, "that I will send Miss
Vaughan three lines to say that I have decided not to mention anything
about her; she looked so imploringly at me, I had better not interfere."
Of all the blows that could have fallen on the hapless girl, she least
expected this. She had feared to meet Lord Chandon, and had most
carefully kept out of his way; she had avoided Sir Aubrey lest any
chance word of his should awaken Adrian's curiosity. She had taken every
possible precaution, but she had never given one thought to Gustave. She
remembered now having heard Lady Vaughan say how faithful he was, and
how highly Adrian valued his services--how Gustave had never had any
other master, and how he spared no pains to please him.
And now suddenly he had become the chief person in her world. Her
fate--nay, her life--lay in his hands--honest hands they were, she knew,
and could rely implicitly on his word.
He would give her fair warning. "And when I get the warning," she said
to herself, "I shall go far away from England. No place is safe here.
For I would not drag him down--my noble, princely Adrian, who has
searched for me, sorrowed for me, and who loves me still. I would not
let him link his noble life with mine; the name that he bears must not
be sullied by me. It shall not be said of the noblest of his race that
he married a girl who had compromised herself. People shall not point to
his wife and say, 'She was the girl who was talked about in the murder
case.' Ah, no, my darling, I will save you from yourself--I will save
you from the degradation of marrying me!"
She spent the remainder of the day--her holiday--in forming plans for
going abroad. It was not safe for her to remain in England; at some time
or other she must be inevitably discovered. It would be far better to go
abroad--to leave England and go to some distant land--where no one would
know her. She had one friend who could help her in her new decision. Her
heart turned gratefully to Dr. Chalmers. Heaven bless him--he would not
fail her.
She must tell him that she was not happy--that a great danger threatened
her; and she must ask him to help her to procure some situation abroad.
Nor would she delay--she would write that very day, and ask him to begin
to make inquiries at once. Soon all danger would be over, and she would
be in peace. The long day passed all too quickly, she was so busy with
her plans. It was late in the evening when she heard the carriage
return, and soon afterward she knew that Adrian was once more under the
same roof.
Veronica Dartelle was not in the most sunny of tempers. She had spent a
long day with Lord Chandon, yet during the whole of it he had not said a
word that gave her the least hope of his ultimately caring for her,
while she liked him better and better every day. She wondered if that
"tiresome girl" was really the cause of his indifference, or if there
was any one else he liked better.
"Perhaps," she thought to herself, "I have not beauty enough to please
him. I hear that this girl he loved was very lovely."
An aversion to all beautiful girls and fair women entered her mind and
remained there. She was tired--and that did not make her more amiable;
so, when Kate Mansfield came in with her story, Veronica was in the
worst possible mood to hear it.
"What are you saying, Kate?" she cried, angrily. "It cannot be
possible--Miss Holte would never go to meet a servant. You must be
mistaken."
"I am not, indeed, Miss Dartelle. I thought it my duty to mention it to
you. They were talking for more than half an hour, and Miss Holte had
her hands clasped, as though she were begging and praying him about
something."
"Nonsense," said Miss Dartelle--"you must be mistaken. What can Miss
Holte know of Lord Chandon's servant?"
Even as she said the words a sudden idea rushed through her mind. "What
if the servant was taking some message from his master?"
"I will make inquiries," she said aloud. "I will go to Miss Holte."
But further testimony was not needed, for, as Miss Dartelle crossed the
upper corridor, she saw Hyacinth standing by the window. To her came
Gustave, who bowed silently, placed a note in her hand, and then
withdrew.
"I have had absolute proof now," she said. "This shall end at once."