In accordance with the advice of his scheming father, Rufus Black
wrote a letter to Neva Wynde entreating her to take a month or six
weeks, instead of the single week for which she had stipulated,
for the consideration of his suit. And Neva, struggling between
conflicting feelings, whose nature the reader already knows, and glad
to be relieved of the necessity for an immediate decision, gratefully
accepted the offered reprieve.
The engagement of Craven Black and Lady Wynde, now that it had been
declared to Neva, was no longer kept a secret from the world. Mr.
Black, in a moment of good-natured condescension, informed his host at
the Wyndham inn, and the amazed landlord bruited the story through the
village. The engagement was publicly announced in the court papers,
Craven Black himself writing the paragraph and procuring its insertion,
and this announcement was copied into the Kentish journals.
As may be imagined, the news of Lady Wynde’s intended marriage produced
quite a sensation in the neighborhood of Hawkhurst. Sir Harold Wynde’s
former friends were scandalized that he should have been so soon
forgotten by the wife he had idolized, and that a man so palpably
inferior to the baronet in character and attributes should have been
chosen to take his place. Others, the three guardians of Neva’s
property among the number, were ill-pleased that Craven Black should
take his place during Neva’s minority as nominal master of Hawkhurst,
and accordingly one morning, a fortnight after the publication of the
engagement, Sir John Freise, Mr. Atkins, and Lord Towyn, rode over to
Hawkhurst, and demanded an interview with Lady Wynde and Neva.
Miss Wynde appeared first in the drawing-room, simply dressed in
white, and fresh from a ramble in the park. She looked a little worn
and troubled, as if her nights were spent more in anxious thoughts
than in slumbers, but the radiance of her wonderful red-brown eyes was
undimmed, and her face had lost nothing of the piquant witchery which
was its chiefest charm.
Before time had been granted Neva to more than exchange greetings with
her guardians, Lady Wynde entered the room with an indolent languor of
motion, and welcomed her visitors with effusion.
“This is an unexpected pleasure, gentlemen,” said her ladyship, her
black eyes glancing from one to another. “You have come to congratulate
me upon the change in my prospects, I dare say. I have been overwhelmed
with calls during the past week, and begin to find my connection with
an old county family decidedly onerous,” and she laughed softly. “All
of Sir Harold’s friends have been to see me, and really I believe that
some of them have felt it their duty to condole with Neva upon the
misfortune of so soon possessing a step-papa.”
The three gentlemen had called for the purpose of discussing with Lady
Wynde and Neva the expected change in the prospects of her ladyship,
but the quiet audacity of the handsome widow’s speech and manner
half-confounded them.
Sir John Freise, being the eldest of the party, took upon himself the
office of spokesman.
“I was an old friend of Sir Harold, Lady Wynde,” he said, a little
stiffly. “I was a man when Sir Harold was a boy, but I knew him well,
and I loved him. I know how deeply he was attached to you, and it is
for his sake that I have now intruded upon you. You are still young,
and with your attractions and your fortune you are peculiarly liable
to be beset by fortune-hunters. As your late husband’s most intimate
friend, I desire to ask you if you have well considered this step you
are about to take?”
Lady Wynde bowed a cold assent.
“Your knowledge of the character of Mr. Black can be but slight,”
persisted Sir John Freise, leaning his chin upon the gold knob of his
walking-stick, and regarding the handsome widow with troubled eyes. “He
has been at Wyndham but a few months. I grant that he is of attractive
exterior, Lady Wynde, but what do you know of his character? I have not
come here to make any charges against Mr. Black but those I am prepared
to substantiate. These gentlemen who have accompanied me will bear me
out in the statement that I have no personal prejudices in the matter,
and that I am actuated only by a desire for your ladyship’s happiness
and that of Miss Wynde. I have written to London since hearing the
report of your engagement, and yesterday received a reply of so much
moment that I summoned Lord Towyn from his marine villa and Mr. Atkins
from Canterbury to accompany me into your presence, and assist me to
impart to you the unpleasant news. Lady Wynde, this Craven Black,
your accepted lover, is a scoundrel, a gamester, a man unworthy your
consideration for a moment.”
“Indeed!” said Lady Wynde, with a slight sneer. “Mr. Black, to my
knowledge, goes in the first society. He visited at the Duke of
Cheltenham’s last year, and the duke is a perfect Puritan, as every one
knows.”
“The Duke of Cheltenham is a distant connection of Mr. Black, and
invited him to his house with the hope of winning him into better
courses,” said Sir John gravely. “But it is not Mr. Black’s high
connections, but the man himself, with whom your destiny is to be
linked, Lady Wynde. I implore you to consider your decision. Better to
remain for ever the honored widow of Sir Harold Wynde than to become
the wife of Mr. Craven Black.”
“I do not think so,” said her ladyship, her sneer deepening. “I
believe I am competent to choose for myself, Sir John, and it is _my_
happiness, you will be pleased to remember, which is at stake. I resent
your interference, as uncalled for and intrusive. I shall marry Mr.
Craven Black in two weeks from to-day, and if you do not approve the
marriage I presume you will be able to testify your disapproval by
remaining away from the wedding.”
Sir John looked deeply pained; Mr. Atkins looked disgusted. Lord
Towyn’s warm blue eyes were directed toward Neva rather than toward
Lady Wynde, but he lost nothing of the conversation.
“I have performed only my duty in warning you, Lady Wynde,” said Sir
John, after a pause. “You are bent upon this marriage with a man who
was a stranger to you three months since, and so soon after the tragic
death of Sir Harold Wynde in India?”
“I have waited a year and three months before marrying again,” declared
Lady Wynde, impatiently. “Why should I wait longer? Surely a year of
mourning is all that custom requires. And as to not knowing Mr. Black,
permit me to say that I know him well. I knew him before I ever met Sir
Harold. Frequenting the same circles in town, and meeting more than
once at the same houses in the country, it is impossible that I should
not have known him. And here I beg you will drop the subject. I am in
no mood to hear your aspersions of an honorable man, and your jealousy
for the memory of Sir Harold Wynde need not blind you to the fact that
virtue and honor did not die with him.”
Sir John looked shocked and amazed. Neva’s face paled, and a sudden
indignation flamed in her eyes, but she remained silent.
“I think, with all deference to your opinion, Sir John,” said Mr.
Atkins, “that, as Lady Wynde suggests, we would better drop the subject
of Mr. Black. It is difficult to convey unpleasant information in a
case like this without giving offence. We have done our duty, and that
must content us. Let us now come to the actual business in hand. Allow
me to ask you, Lady Wynde, if you intend to continue your residence at
Hawkhurst after becoming Mrs. Craven Black?”
A flash of defiance shot from her ladyship’s black eyes.
“Certainly, I intend to reside here with my husband during the minority
of my step-daughter,” she declared boldly. “I am Neva’s guardian, and
my residence as such was assigned at Hawkhurst.”
“Sir Harold never contemplated a state of affairs such as you propose
Madam,” said Mr. Atkins doggedly. “To make this Mr. Craven Black
nominal master of the home of the Wyndes is something utterly unlooked
for.”
“Where I am mistress, my husband will be master!” asserted Lady Wynde,
with temper.
“It should be so,” declared Mr. Atkins, “but you see how inappropriate
it would be to make Mr. Black master of Hawkhurst. Good taste--pardon
my plainness--would dictate your ladyship’s retirement from Hawkhurst
upon the occasion of your third marriage, and we have come to propose
that Hawkhurst be closed, Miss Neva transferred to the guardianship of
Sir John Freise and Lady Freise, and that you and your new husband take
up your abode at Wynde Heights, your dower house, or at any other place
you may prefer.”
Lady Wynde frowned her anger and defiance.
“I shall remain at Hawkhurst,” she exclaimed haughtily. “If you desire
to remove me, you must do so by process of law. If you think her
father’s wife an unfit personal guardian for Miss Wynde, you can have
Sir Harold’s will set aside, or take legal proceedings to obtain for
her another guardian. I shall not relinquish my post, or the charge my
dead husband reposed in me, until I am compelled to do so.”
The young Lord Towyn’s face flushed, and he addressed Neva, in his
clear ringing voice:
“Miss Wynde, this matter concerns you above all others, and it is
for you to have a voice in it. The proposed marriage of Lady Wynde
completely vitiates your present relations to her. In becoming Mrs.
Craven Black, I consider that Lady Wynde throws off all allegiance to
Sir Harold Wynde, and ceases to be your step-mother. It is for you to
decide if you will choose a new personal guardian in her stead.”
All eyes turned upon the fair young girl. The young earl awaited her
reply with a breathless anxiety. Sir John Freise and Mr. Atkins fixed
their eager gaze upon her, and Lady Wynde regarded her sharply and with
some uneasiness.
“Before Neva comes to a decision,” said her ladyship hastily, “I have
a word to say to her. Have I not treated you with all kindness and
tenderness, Neva, since you came under this roof? Have I been guilty of
one act of neglect, of step-motherly cruelty, or want of consideration?
Have not your wishes been considered in all things?”
Neva could not answer these questions in the negative.
“There is no stipulation in Sir Harold’s will that I should not
again marry,” continued Lady Wynde. “Sir Harold, without mention of
the contingency of another marriage on my part, constituted me his
daughter’s personal guardian, with the request that I make Hawkhurst
my home until Neva marries or attains her majority. Not one word is
said about or against my marriage, you will observe; and certainly
Sir Harold Wynde was too sensible to expect me to remain a widow
long--at my age too. My marriage, therefore, does not interfere with
my relations toward Neva as her step-mother and personal guardian. Any
court of law will confirm this decision. If you choose, Neva, to apply
for a change of guardians, and to make a scandal, and to make your name
common on every lip, I can only regret your ill-taste, and that you
have yielded to such ill-guidance.”
Mr. Atkins felt a sentiment of admiration mingle with his dislike for
Lady Wynde.
“She ought to have been a lawyer,” he thought. “She’s a mighty sharp
woman, and we are sure to get the worst of it in a battle with her.
Pity we made the attack, if it is only to put her on her guard.”
Neva was still considering the matter intently. She had a thorough
contempt for Craven Black, and disliked the prospect of being under
the same roof with him, but she dreaded still more the publicity
that would be given to her application for change of guardians. She
remembered her father’s many injunctions to cling to Lady Wynde until
her own marriage, or the attainment of her majority. Lady Wynde had not
been unkind to her, nor illy fulfilled her duties as chaperon. Neva
had actually nothing of which to complain, save Lady Wynde’s proposed
marriage. She was a conscientious girl, and she could not decide to
throw off the yoke her father had placed upon her shoulders, simply
because Lady Wynde had chosen to enter into new relations which were
not likely to affect the old. She felt that she was placed in a cruel
position, but her duty, she thought, was plain to her.
“Well, what is your decision, my child?” asked Sir John Freise
paternally.
“You are very kind to me, Sir John, and you also, Lord Towyn and Mr.
Atkins,” said the young girl tremulously, “and I cannot properly
express my gratitude to you for your concern for me. I appreciate all
you have said, all that you mean. I own that Lady Wynde’s intended
marriage is repugnant to me, and that I cannot understand how her
ladyship can take Mr. Craven Black into papa’s place, but I have tried
to reconcile myself to the change. And I think,” added Neva, her tones
gathering firmness, and a brave look shining in her eyes of red gloom,
“that I have not sufficient excuse for appealing to the law to give me
a change of guardians. I shall have little to do or say to Mr. Craven
Black, and Hawkhurst is large enough for us both. It was papa’s wish
that I should remain for a certain period under the care of Lady Wynde,
and I cannot forget that she was papa’s wife, and that he loved her.
And more,” concluded Neva very gently, “if Lady Wynde is about to
contract an imprudent marriage, and if she is likely to know sorrow
because of her false step, she will need my friendship when the truth
comes home to her. I thank you again, Sir John, Lord Towyn, Mr. Atkins,
but I do not think I should be justified in taking the decided step you
advise.”
“I don’t know but you are right, Neva,” said Sir John. “At any rate,
give your ideas of duty a fair trial, and if you change your mind
let us know. It is not as if you were going away from us. Mr. Black,
finding himself in a quiet, decorous neighborhood, may choose to settle
down, and become a better man. We shall see you frequently, and my
house will always be open to you, my dear, and my wife and girls will
always be glad to receive you as an inmate of our family.”
“I shall not forget your kindness, Sir John,” said Neva gratefully.
“Miss Neva has always a way of escape from an unpleasant situation,”
said the practical Mr. Atkins. “Her marriage will free her from Lady
Wynde’s guardianship without publicity of an unpleasant description.”
Neva reddened vividly.
The frankness with which the conversation had been distinguished had
considerably surprised the young earl. No one seemed to require the use
of diplomacy in making plain an unpleasant meaning, and even Lady Wynde
did not seem offended at the utterance of home truths from the lips of
Mr. Atkins. It was an hour for plain-dealing, which was freely indulged
in.
The visitors, finding their errand fruitless, offered Lady Wynde their
best wishes for her future, and bade her good-morning. At the door, Sir
John Freise looked back with a smile and said:
“You look pale, Neva. Come down the avenue for a walk. I have a message
for you from the girls which I forgot to deliver.”
Neva procured her hat, and followed Sir John out of the house. The
horses were in waiting, and Mr. Atkins mounted. Sir John and Lord Towyn
took their bridles on their arms, and walked slowly down the long
arched avenue with the young heiress.
Lady Wynde watched them jealously from the window.
“I am afraid, my dear,” said the kindly baronet, “that you have made
a romantic decision to-day, but you must decide in this matter for
yourself. If you remain unmarried, these Blacks will fairly riot
at Hawkhurst for the next three years. Craven Black will fill your
father’s house with dissolute company, and you will be brought in
contact with men whom your father would never have allowed to cross his
threshold.”
“Should such an event arise,” said Neva, her lovely face growing
resolute and stern, “I will then consider your proposition, Sir John,
to seek a change of guardians. But I dread the publicity such a
proceeding would cause.”
“Why don’t you take into consideration Atkins’ idea then?” demanded Sir
John, smiling, yet earnest. “You must marry some day, Neva; why not
marry soon? You have plenty of suitors. Only choose some one worthy to
stand in your father’s place, and you will be happy. Your marriage will
be the best way out of the difficulty--the best and the easiest. It
would be a great load off my mind to see you happily married, my dear
child. Wait a moment, Atkins?” added the baronet, raising his voice.
“Why go so fast? I have a word to say to you.”
The kindly old man hurried on to speak to his coadjutor, leading his
horse as he went, and Neva and Lord Towyn were left to themselves--an
opportunity specially planned by Sir John, who regarded his manœuvres
as decidedly Machiavellian, and who consequently plumed himself upon
their success.
The young earl’s visit at Freise Hall had long since terminated, and
he was now stopping at his marine villa on the coast, a dozen miles or
more away. The distance was not so great that he could not ride over to
Hawkhurst every pleasant day, and he did so with an utter disregard of
distance or exertion. His suit with Neva, however, had never progressed
beyond his early declaration of love, Neva’s reserve having chilled him
whenever he had attempted to renew the subject.
He recognized his present favorable opportunity, and hastened to
improve it.
“I am afraid we took you by storm to-day, Neva,” said the young
earl, as they slowly walked down the avenue, considerably behind Mr.
Atkins and Sir John, who had now mounted. “But Sir John Freise was
determined to make an effort to save Lady Wynde from a union which she
is likely to regret. Her ladyship is too pure and true to comprehend
the character of her suitor, and she will cling to him all the more
determinedly because of our well-meant warning.”
By this it will be seen that Lord Towyn, with his frank nature, and
honest soul, had not the slightest suspicion of the real character of
Lady Wynde. If Craven Black was bad, she was also bad. She could never
have loved or been wholly at ease in the society of a good man.
“I am sorry for her,” said Neva, sighing.
“She must ‘go her own gait,’” said Lord Towyn, “but you must not be
involved in her unhappiness. Neva, darling Neva, I would almost die
to spare you one pang of sorrow, one shadow of grief. I love you,
and each day only adds to that love,” and his voice grew unsteady and
impassioned. “You have held me off at arms’ length ever since that
evening in which I told you so prematurely how dear you were to me. Do
not repulse me now. Tell me honestly, my darling, whether you could be
happy with me--whether I am dearer to you than another?”
His blue eyes, radiant with the warmth of his glowing soul, flashed an
electric light into hers. His passionate face, so fair and handsome, so
noble in expression and feature, looked love upon hers. Neva’s eyelids
trembled and drooped. An answering thrill convulsed her heart, and she
knew in that moment that, come what would, she loved Arthur Towyn with
all her soul, even as he loved her, and that she would know perfect
happiness only as his wife.
Yet the conviction came upon her as a painful shock, and in that
instant the struggle between her love and her duty of obedience to the
supposed wishes of her dead father began in her heart.
“You love me?” whispered the young earl ardently, and with a passionate
tremor of his voice. “Neva, with all my soul I love you, and I never
loved before. Do I love in vain?”
The shy, red-brown eyes were upraised for a brief glance, but in their
swift flash Lord Towyn read his answer, and knew himself beloved.
There was a brief silence between them full of rapture. They exchanged
no betrothal kiss, no embrace, but Lord Towyn held Neva’s hand in his,
and in his fervent pressure his soul spoke to hers.
“I may tell Sir John and Mr. Atkins that we are betrothed, may I not,
my darling?” said the young earl softly, as they walked on yet more
slowly.
“Not yet, Arthur--not yet. I love you,” and the girl’s voice sank to
a whisper her lover’s ears could scarcely catch, “but I want a little
time to decide. Don’t look surprised, Arthur; I do love you better than
all the world, but it is all so new and strange, and--and--”
“I understand,” said the earl, his face beaming. “Our love is too
sacred to be proclaimed on the instant we acknowledge it ourselves.
We will keep it secret until after Lady Wynde’s marriage; but we are
promised, darling! Our happiness would be complete if we could know
beyond all doubt that Sir Harold smiles upon our union. And why should
he not smile upon our marriage from his home in Heaven? He loved me,
Neva, and he desired our marriage. My father told me this on his
death-bed.”
“If I could think so!” breathed Neva. “I know papa loved you, Arthur.
Do you think he would really approve our marriage?”
“What an anxious little face! I know he would approve it, Neva. My
blessed little darling, mine own, whom no one can take from me!” cried
Lord Towyn passionately. “I am going home to dine with Sir John, and
I will call upon you this evening. I am going to exact a lover’s
privilege of seeing you when I please, without the cold, prying eyes of
Mrs. Artress devouring me. I will be prudent and secret, Neva, since
you insist upon it, but oh, if my month of probation were over and I
might proclaim my happiness to the world!”
They parted near the lodge gates, and Neva returned slowly toward the
house, while her young lover vaulted into his saddle and rejoined his
friends with a countenance so rapturous that they could not avoid
knowing that he had confessed his love to Neva and had not been
rejected.
While they overwhelmed him with congratulations, which he tried to
disclaim as altogether premature, Neva’s mind was divided between joy
and grief, and she murmured:
“What shall I do? What is right for me to do? I love Arthur, and
life will not be complete without him. Shall I, for the sake of that
love, disregard papa’s last wishes which I vowed to accept as sacred
commands? Oh, if I only knew what to do!”