"Is Lord Milborough the one man then in the world?"
"There are not many like him and available. That, I suspect, is the
best answer to your question. Seriously, he is a magnificent match."
Anne sat mute. Lady Dalrymple glanced at her, and grew impatient.
"You are not in any doubt as to your answer?" she demanded quickly.
"I always doubt until the thing is said, and long afterwards," said
Anne.
"Afterwards as much as you like. You can hardly toss over Lord
Milborough as you have less important people."
"What an argument against accepting him!" There was angry light in her
eyes, though she kept her voice cool.
Lady Dalrymple could not resist a taunt.
"It is an amusement, let me add, of which the world wearies in a woman.
It forgives once for the sake of having something to talk about, the
second time palls, and the third is wearisome and unpardonable.
However," she went on, remembering her instructions, "the point is not
whether Lord Milborough shall be thrown over, but whether he will be
accepted?"
Anne sat upright.
"I do not know," she said coldly.
"He will ask to-morrow."
"He has said so?"
"Pray do not waste your indignation. Would he be likely to say so? But
I can see."
"If he does,"--she leaned back again,--"he will be refused."
"Anne!"
"Refused."
"You are mad."
"Perhaps. At any rate, that is what will happen to him if he puts his
question to-morrow."
"But," said her step-mother with a gasp, "you have just said that you
are undecided?"
"I am. I may veer round. I protest nothing, except that to-morrow
shall not bind me."
Lady Dalrymple rose, feeling that the situation was more critical than
she had imagined, so critical, indeed, that she began to fear she had
said too much. She had never understood Anne, for which she was not to
blame; at this moment she felt herself face to face with a sphinx, and
looked askance. Luck, rather than tact, led her to add--
"Well, it is your own concern, no others," and to wish good-night.
Anne sat still where she had been left, thought busy. She smiled at her
own clear understanding of the position, and perceiving Lord Milborough
working through Lord Arthur upon Lady Dalrymple, recognised that this
interview was intended as a probe before he ventured on the momentous
question. Her fencing of the past two days had doubtless left him
uneasy. She herself had foreseen fresh difficulties the next day, and
was proportionably relieved by the conviction that after what she had
just announced she would be left unmolested. Would Wareham speak? He
should have the opportunity, and if--if--he succeeded in carrying her
heart captive, she believed herself capable of marrying him, and
renouncing more brilliant prospects. No one, it was certain, had
attracted and piqued her as he had.
But Anne's heart was guarded in its impulses. It made no rash resolves.
It looked to circumstances to determine choice, not by any means
suffering itself to be swept away by a dominant emotion, nor disposed to
hang too long in the balance. Anne was the world's pupil, and the world
teaches the value of outer casings, with a side sneer at romance. The
outer casings belonged unmistakably to Lord Milborough. This was not to
be forgotten, though she was ready to make concessions to her heart.
But there, too, uneasiness lurked. Millie's name had given substance to
vague fears. Her love for Wareham, for love it was, in its degree,
prevented certainty. Before him she was no conqueror, but shy,
unconvinced of her own power. Did he love her? If he did, what shut
his mouth? Was he uncertain, hesitating between her and Millie? Anne
sprang to her feet, and stood breathing hard, hands clenched, eyes dark
with scorn, face flushing with the thought. Weighing all that she would
resign, she demanded a mighty love from him as an equivalent, not a jot
would she yield, and understood nothing of the inequality of the
bargain. Had she but known it, her unconsciousness was pathetic.
She went to the window, drew aside the curtain, and flung back the
shutter. Rain drove wildly against the glass. She closed her defences
again, and came back to the fire.
To-morrow she would know.