Only a girl's love
slightly. She lay back in his arms for a moment, looking up at him with
an expression of helpless resignation in her eyes, her lovely face
revealed in the light which poured from the window full upon her.
"Lenore," he said, huskily, "what--what is this?"
Her eyes closed for a moment, and a faint thrill ran through her,
then she regained her composure, and putting him gently from her, she
laughed softly.
"It was your fault," she said, the exquisite voice tremulous with
emotion. "Why do you steal upon us like a thief in the night, or--like
a ghost? You frightened me."
He stood and looked at her, and put his hand to his brow. He was but
mortal, was but a man with a man's passions, a man's susceptibility to
woman's loveliness, and he knew that she loved him.
"I----" he said, then stopped. "I did not know. Charlie brought me
here. Who are here?"
"They are all here," she said, her eyes downcast. "I will go and tell
them lest you frighten them as you frightened me," and she stole away
from him like a shadow.
He stood, his hands thrust in his pockets, his eyes fixed on the ground.
She was very beautiful, and she loved him. Why should he not make her
happy? make one person happy at least? Not only one person, but his
mother, and Lilian--all of them. As for himself, well! one woman was as
good as another, seeing that he had lost his darling! And this other
was the best and rarest of all that were left.
"Leycester!"
It was his mother's voice. He turned and kissed her; she was not
frightened, she did not even kiss him, but she put her hand on his
arm, and he felt it tremble, and the way she spoke the word told of all
her past sorrow at his absence, and her joy at his return.
"You have come back to us!" she said, and that was all.
"Yes, I have come back!" he said, with something like a sigh.
She looked at him, and the mother's heart was wrung.
"Have you been ill, Leycester?" she asked, quietly.
"Ill, no," he said, then he laughed a strange laugh. "Do I look so
seedy, my lady?"
"You look----" she began, with sad bitterness, then she stopped. "Come
in."
He followed her in, but at the door he paused and looked out at the
night. As he did so, the vision of the slim, graceful girl, of his
lost darling, seemed to float before him, with pale face, and wistful,
reproachful eyes. He put up his hand with a strange, despairing
gesture, and his lips moved.
"Good-bye!" he murmured. "Oh, my lost love, good-bye!"
CHAPTER XXXVII.
Lord Charles' little plot had succeeded beyond his expectation. He had
restored the prodigal and shared the fatted calf, as he deserved to do.
Although it was known all over the house, in five minutes, that Lord
Leycester, the heir, had returned, there was no fuss, only a pleasant
little simmer of welcome and satisfaction.
The countess had gone to the earl, who was dressing for dinner, to tell
him the news.
"Leycester has returned," she said.
The earl started and sent his valet away.
"What!"
"Yes, he has come back to us," she said, sinking into a seat.
"Where from?" he demanded.
She shook her head.
"I don't know. I don't want to know. He must be asked no questions.
Lord Charles brought him. I always loved Charles Guildford."
"So you ought, out of pity," said the earl, grimly, "seeing that your
son has almost led him to ruin."
Then the countess fired up.
"There must be no talk of that kind," she said. "You do not want to see
him go again? No word must be said unless you want to drive him away.
He has been ill."
"I am not surprised," said the earl, still a little grimly, "a man
can't lead the life he has been leading and keep his health, moral or
physical."
"But that is all past," said the countess confidently. "I feel that is
all past. If you do not worry him he will stay, and all will go well."
"Oh, I won't worry his Imperial Highness," said the earl, with a smile,
"that is what you want me to say, I suppose. And the girl--what about
her?"
"I don't know," said the countess with all a mother's supreme
indifference for the fate of any other than her son. "She is past, too.
I am sure of that. How thankful I am that Lenore is here."
"Ah," said the earl who could be sarcastic when he liked. "So she is to
be sacrificed as a thank-offering for the prodigal's return, is she?
Poor Lenore, I am almost sorry for her. She is too good for him."
"For shame," exclaimed the countess, flushing; "no one is too good for
him. And--and she will not deem it a sacrifice."
"No, I suppose not," he said, fumbling at his necktie. "It is well to
be born with a handsome face, and a dare-devil temper, because all
women love you then, and the best and fairest think it worth while to
offer themselves up. Poor Lenore! Well, I'll be civil to his Highness,
notwithstanding that he has spent a small fortune in two months,
and declined to honor my house with his presence. There," he added,
touching her cheek and smiling, "don't be alarmed. We will kill the
fatted calf and make merry--till he goes off again."
The countess was satisfied with this, and went down to find Leycester
and Lord Charles standing near the fire. Though they had only rented
the place for a month, curtains were up on all the doors, and there was
a fire in all the sitting-rooms, and in the earl's apartments.
The countess held out her hand to Lord Charles.
"I am very glad to see you, Charlie," she said, with her rare smile.
"You can give me a kiss if you like," and Charlie, as he blushed and
kissed the white forehead, knew that she was thanking him for bringing
her son back to her.
"But we've got to go back at once," he said, with a laugh.
"We can't sit down in this rig out," and he looked ruefully at his
riding suit.
The countess shook her head.
"You shall sit down in a smock frock if you like," she said. "But there
is no occasion. I have brought Leycester's things down, and--it's not
the first time you have borrowed suits from each other, I expect."
"Not by a many!" laughed Lord Charles. "I'll go and dress. Where is
Ley?"
Leycester had gone out of the room quietly, and was then sitting beside
Lilian, his hand in hers, her head upon his breast.
"You have come back to us, Ley?" she said, caressing his hand. "It has
been so long and weary waiting! You will not go again?"
He paused a moment, then he looked at her.
"No," he said, in a low voice. "No, Lil, I shall not go again."
She kissed him, and as she did so, whispered, anxiously:
"And--and--Stella, Ley?"
His face contracted with a frown of pain and trouble.
"That is all past," he said, using his mother's words; and she kissed
him again.
"How thin and worn you look. Oh, Ley!" she murmured, with sorrowful,
loving reproach.
He smiled with a touch of bitterness.
"Do I? Well, I will wax fat and grow mirthful for the future," he said,
rising. "There is the dinner bell."
"Come to me afterward, Ley," she pleaded, as she let him go, and he
promised.
There was to be no fuss, but it was noteworthy that several of
Leycester's favorite dishes figured in the menu, and that there was a
special Indian curry for Lord Charles.
Leycester did not descend to the dining-room till ten minutes after the
time, and the greeting between father and son was characteristic of the
two men. The earl put out his thin, white hand, and smiled gravely.
"How do you do, Leycester," he said. "Will you have the Lafitte or the
Chateau Margaux? The weather is fine for the time of year."
And Leycester said, quietly:
"I hope you are well, sir. The Margaux, I suppose, Charles? Yes, we
have had some good weather."
That was all.
He went to his place and sat down quietly and composedly, as if he had
dined with them for months without a break, and as if the papers had
not been chronicling his awful doings.
The earl could not suppress a pang of pity as he glanced across at the
handsome face and saw how worn and haggard it looked, and he bent his
head over his soup with a sigh.
Leycester looked round the table presently, and then turned to the
countess.
"Where is Lenore?" he asked.
The countess paused a moment.
"She has rather a bad headache, and begged to be excused," she said.
Leycester bent his head.
"I am sorry," he remarked.
Then the countess talked, and Lord Charles helped her. He was in the
best of spirits. The dinner was excellent, and the curry admirable,
considering the short notice; and he was delighted with the success of
his maneuver. He rattled on in his humorous style, told them all about
the hut, and represented that they lived somewhat after the manner of
savages.
"Eat our meals with a hunting knife, don't we, Leycester? I hope you'll
excuse us if we don't hold our forks properly. I daresay we shall soon
get into the way of it again."
All this was very well, and the earl smiled and grew cheerful; but the
countess, watching the haggard, handsome face beside her, saw that
Leycester was absorbed and pre-occupied. He passed dish after dish, and
the Margaux stood beside him almost untouched. She was still anxious
and fearful, and as she rose she threw a glance at the earl, half of
entreaty, half of command, that he would not "say anything."
"It is nice to get back to the old wine," said Charlie, leaning back
in his chair, and eying his glass with complacent approval. "Whisky
and water is a fine drink, but one tires of it; now this----" and he
reached the claret jug expressively.
The earl talked of politics and the coming hunting season, and still
Leycester was silent, eying the white cloth and fingering the stem of
his wine glass.
"Will you hunt this year, Leycester?" said the earl, addressing him at
last.
He looked up gravely.
"I don't know, sir; only a day a week if I do."
"We shall go to Leicestershire, of course," said the earl. "I shall
have to be up for the season, but you can take charge if you will."
Leycester inclined his head.
"Will you see to the horses?" asked the earl.
Leycester thought a moment.
"I shall only want two," he said; "the rest will be sold."
"Do you mean the stud?" asked the earl, with a faint air of surprise.
"Yes," said Leycester, quietly. "I shall sell them all. I shall not
race again."
The earl understood him; the old wild life was to come to an end. But
he put in a word.
"Is that wise?" he said.
"I think so," said Leycester. "Quite enough money has been spent. Yes,
I shall sell."
"Very well," assented the earl, who could not but agree with the remark
respecting money. "After all, I imagine one tires of the turf. I always
thought it a great bore."
"So it is--so it is," said Lord Charles, cheerfully. "Everything is a
bore."
The earl smiled.
"Not everything," he said. "Leycester, you are not touching the wine,"
he added, graciously.
Leycester filled his glass and drank it, and then, to Charles' surprise,
refilled it, not once only, but twice and thrice, as if he had suddenly
become thirsty.
Presently the earl, after vainly pushing the decanter to them, rose,
and they followed him into the drawing-room.
The countess sat at her tea-table, and beside her was Lenore. She was
rather paler than usual, and the beautiful eyes were of a deep violet
under the long sweeping lashes. She was exquisitely dressed, but there
was not a single jewel about her; a spray of white orchid nestled on
her bosom and shone in her golden hair, showing the exquisite delicacy
of the fair face and throat. Leycester glanced at her, but took his cup
of tea without a word, and Lord Charles made all the conversation, as
at the dinner-table.
Presently Leycester put down his cup and walked to the window, and
drawing the curtain aside, stood looking out at the night. There was a